Harry Potter and the Crisis at Nemesarium
by Professor Skylarke
Summary: In his 6th year, Harry slowly comes to a rude awakening and realizes that people whom he may have despised in previous years might actually be more grey than dark....Warning: contains mention of slash relationship between vampires. Warning: character dea
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing about this story except my characters, Cassandra Snape, and numerous other new students and faculty members. All canon characters belong to JKR!

Also...please note that as of 2/18/07, the genre has changed, as well as I added the disclaimer, which I apparently forgot to do in my haste! Thank you, and enjoy the prologue.

Professor M. Skylarke

Prologue:

Phoebus Stellian the Delivery Guy

Harry looked out the window and sighed. Nothing was going on, now that his Fifth Year was over and done with. Only three more weeks of the Dursleys and then he would be off to Hogwarts for another year. But, like always, being Muggles, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were completely against it. "_Dear Ron_," Harry started on another letter. _"Nothing interesting is going on here. I've been stuck here all summer, and since Sirius is dead and they know it, it's gotten a lot worse. I can't wait for school to start again, how about you?"_ Suddenly, Harry heard a knock downstairs. He creaked his door open a bit to see who it was...or at least hear the voice.

He heard Uncle Vernon snap at whoever it was, "What do you want?"

The person---Harry couldn't recognize the visitor at the door---said flatly, "Is this the residence of Harry Potter?" The voice was a little low and passive. This person sounded tired, bored, and exasperated all at the same time. The voice was not a familiar one.

Aunt Petunia scurried down there and laughed. "Oh, who? I think you have the wrong address, dear."

"Look," said the person. "You can make this easy or difficult, and I _know_ I got the right address. I'm not stupid, so don't go off thinking you can fool me. Now, is Harry Potter home or not?" The voice sounded a little agitated with the Dursleys. "You are making me impatient." The hooded figure was tapping his bony fingers in frustration.

Uncle Vernon snapped at the tired visitor. "He's home all right, but just who do you think you are showing up on my property at this hour!"

The figure pulled down the hood he was wearing and laughed at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. "Go get him already...unless you want to see something bad happen." Harry took one look at this person and was completely baffled...he'd never seen this fellow before in his life.

The visitor was a wizard, there was no way he couldn't be; he was carrying a mahogany wand with a brass handle in his bony hand. His mahogany-colored hair was wavy and unruly, and it came down to his squared jawbone. He looked about thirty and a pair of oval-shaped glasses with brass rims were rested on his Roman-shaped nose. Suddenly, Harry noticed this fellow's brass-colored eyes were looking at him. "Don't be afraid of me, Mr. Potter," the wizard said calmly. Once Harry came downstairs, he got a better glance at this visitor of his. The man was clearly exhausted, and looked as if he was about to fall asleep. He yawned, and then introduced himself. "My name is Phoebus Stellian, and I was sent here because an important professor over at Hogwarts wanted to make sure you got something. That was how I knew this was the correct address." At that, Phoebus got up wearily and yawned again. "Sorry, I left most of the stuff in my Mitsubishi, so I'll have to make a few trips in and out of the house. I hope you will excuse me."

"How about I help you, Mr. Stellian?" asked Harry. "You look pretty tired."

Phoebus sighed. "I am, but I can manage this. Here's the letter."

Harry opened the letter. "Well, Harry, I'll be unloading, so if there's anything in there, I suggest you go ahead and read it." Phoebus walked out the door and started pulling a few more boxes out of his Mitsubishi. Harry turned to see Phoebus collapse and fall asleep on the grass. He shrugged and unfolded the letter. It was a creamy gold color and was written in a really fancy silvery script. Harry read:

"Harry Potter,

I hope this letter has reached you, because this is a very important matter concerning your education at Hogwarts. You are probably aware that you are about to start your sixth year here, but have you put any thought into the advanced classes offered by our superior teachers? In case you did not know, Hogwarts is the only school in the wizarding world that offers Advanced Alchemy, Advanced Astrology, Manipulation, Advanced Clairvoyancy, Animagery, and Necromancy. If you are looking for a great opportunity to become even more powerful than you already are, you might want to consider one of these classes. I thank you in advance for taking the time to read this letter, and hope you will think about taking my class. Please accept these gifts as a token of my appreciation for your heroic efforts thus far...or you could consider these to be early birthday presents, take your pick. Keep up the good work!

Sincerely,

**Professor L. Snitchgrass**."

Harry looked at the letter two, maybe even three, times before closing it. He had never heard of Professor Snitchgrass before, and he was sure Dumbledore had never mentioned this teacher to him. Phoebus finally came back in...dripping wet. "Why didn't you wake me up and warn me that this house had automatic sprinklers outside?" he said flatly. "Here are a couple of those presents I was talking about. I just need to get the last one out of the car." He walked back outside and grumbled. His shoes squished as he walked and left large puddles.

Harry looked at the packages and decided to open the large square one first. He opened it with his pocket knife and looked at the fancy new cage that had been inside. There was a small note that said, "For your owl," on it and Harry quickly let Hedwig try out her new brass-latticed home. "Well, that was thoughtful," he said under his breath. He then opened the long cylindrical box next...so see a Soulcatcher broomstick, the newest one on the market. The note with the box said in Professor Snitchgrass's spidery handwriting, "You are really going to have to watch your back this year in Quidditch. A new broomstick will be necessary." He took a look at the broomstick to see he had his name engraved on the handle in gold. '_Apparently, Professor L. Snitchgrass, whoever this person is, really seems to like me_,' Harry thought with pleasure.

"Here's that last box, Harry," said Phoebus. "It may be sort of small, but trust me...it's really kind of heavy. Be careful."

"Don't worry, Mr. Stellian. I'll be careful," said Harry as he opened the third box. His eyes widened as he saw what Professor Snitchgrass had sent him...a _very_ expensive crystal ball. The teacher had written, "This can be used in Astrology, Clairvoyancy, Professor Trelawney's class (are you still taking Divination?), and maybe even Necromancy. Crystal balls are status symbols, Harry, and do not come cheap. This particular model (the RedStar model, to be precise) came from Nezuras Curiosity, a very expensive curiosity shop located at Diagon Alley and the higher quality stores. The street name is Occasion Alley in case you ever want to go down there. Please be careful with the RedStar, seeing as this thing made my wallet quite a bit lighter and I cannot afford to purchase you another one. Mitzi Nezura, the crystal artist who made your globe, said this one has a much sharper quality than any other crystal ball you might ever own from any other store. Please, enjoy!

-**Professor Snitchgrass**"

Harry was completely baffled...a new cage for Hedwig, a new broomstick (a Soulcatcher at that!), and a very costly crystal ball! What did this all mean? "I never even _met_ someone named Snitchgrass..." he muttered and then laughed. "Well, this is _obviously_ not a frugal person. Maybe I should ask Dumbledore about Professor Snitchgrass once school starts." He turned around to see Phoebus had fallen asleep on the couch again. "Mr. Stellian, are you okay?" he asked the man.

Phoebus quickly woke up and yawned again. "I'll be okay, okay? I just need a little rest or caffeine before I take you over to the Weasleys, just like Miss Granger told me to do." After that, Phoebus fell asleep again peacefully. The expression of exasperation left his face and he looked calm...almost dead. Harry bit his lip. Too many people close to him were dying these days. He looked at those gifts again and sighed. He wanted to meet this Professor Snitchgrass and thank him (or her) for the kind generosity with a limited paycheck. This was probably going to be the great beginning of a new friendship.

Suddenly, Aunt Petunia came in and pointed at the young man sprawled out on the sofa. "_He's_ still here?" she asked slightly frightened. "Vernon! What does he want?"

Uncle Vernon shrugged. "How should I know! What does he want, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Mr. Stellian was sent here to give me a couple of packages and escort me to a friend's home. You won't have to worry about me until next year." He laughed. "I will be heading to Ron's house, right after Mr. Stellian wakes up. He said if you don't get him a green tea or a coffee, he'll put a curse on the three of you!" Harry knew he had lied about the last part, but he had heard Phoebus say he needed a little caffeine before they went off, and he wanted to be nice to the tired wizard.

After Aunt Petunia had made a cup of coffee for Phoebus, Harry and the thin fellow were off to visit the Weasleys. The Mitsubishi wasn't a big car (seeing as it _was_ from Japan), but it did have some comfortable seats. "Want a bite to eat while we're on the road, Harry? I could always stop by a convenience store and pick something up."

Harry laughed. "You know, Mr. Stellian, I never have met a wizard like you."

Phoebus took another sip of his drink. "Your Auntie may not be a smart Muggle, but she sure can make a good cup of coffee. Tell her that, okay? Oh, you can call me Phoebus if you like. I don't like being called _Mr. Stellian_, because it makes me feel old and it doesn't help that I just turned thirty. And, Harry? What exactly did you mean when you said you have never met a wizard like me?"

"You are really open about being a wizard in the Muggle world," said Harry, "and you use a bewitched Muggle car, and stop at Muggle places. Why?"

"Well, Harry," said Phoebus. "I like almost everything about Muggles, and I don't see why I need to hide. With all these problems in our world, I'm going to make a name for myself wherever I can. I want to be a celebrity like you so I can be someone besides a delivery guy or a security guard. Well, here you are. Good luck in your classes, and I'm sure we'll meet again sometime soon." As Harry pulled out his suitcase, and started walking to the house with his new stuff, he heard Phoebus shout, "By the way, make sure you check out Occasion Alley while shopping for school supplies! Some of the stuff in those stores will knock your socks off, literally." After he said that, Phoebus Stellian drove off in his Japanese car and disappeared into the sunrise.

Harry rushed up to the house and rang the doorbell. Ginny answered it and let him in...her cheeks were turning red. Ron rushed up to Harry and said, "Good to see you, Harry." He held up a piece of parchment. "I just got your letter and Hermione just wrote me to tell me you were coming." He stopped and then asked, "Who was the guy that drove you here, anyway? A friend of yours?"

Harry shook his head. "I just stole a ride with him. One of the teachers at the school had sent him to give me some stuff, so I guess he was just a delivery guy."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Occasion Alley

Harry had spent the last weeks of summer with the Weasleys, but it was now time to head out to Diagon Alley to purchase the equipment he would need for his sixth year. Like four years ago, Mrs. Weasley insisted on using the floo powder to get there. Harry was careful to say "Diagon Alley" with _emphasis_ this time and he ended up there without landing in Knockturn Alley like before. He went into the bookstores to pick up the books he would need. He then went to get a new cauldron for Potions class, and then bought a few miscellaneous items needed. After everything was purchased, Ron and Harry ran into Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry. "How was your summer?"

"You didn't get my letters?" asked Hermione. "_Neither_ of you?"

"Not this year," said Ron. "But that Stellian guy you sent to pick up Harry did his job. We've had Harry over at our house for about two weeks."

Hermione shrugged. "Mr. Stellian is a regular at my house, because I usually order special wizarding books, and he's the usual delivery guy. I had ordered a book on the history of Dark Magic Circle, and Mr. Stellian had just come by to deliver it. He had said he had something for you and was heading your way, Harry, so I just asked him to give you a ride to Ron's. That way, you wouldn't have to put up with the Dursleys all summer."

"Well, thanks, Hermione. That was very thoughtful," said Harry.

He then remembered the name of the street that Phoebus had told him he might like to check out. "Would you two like to take a look at Occasion Alley? Phoebus said that they have all sorts of rare and valuable items there...and really weird stuff nobody would even think about finding."

Ron sighed. "I'd like to go to Occasion Alley, but I'm broke."

"That can easily be taken care of," said Harry, pulling out a bag of Galleons. "How much could that stuff be, anyway?"

Hermione was telling Ron and Harry about the history of Occasion Alley on the way over there, but once they reached the street, they looked at the shops and the people. These were clearly high quality stores, and where the extremely wealthy shopped. They browsed across the street to see what all was here, but Harry was looking for a store Professor Snitchgrass had mentioned in the letter..._Nezura's Curiosity_.

Ron pointed to a candy store that sold all sorts of interesting flavors...including a very expensive variation of Bertie Botts's every-flavor beans. So, the three students went into _Siren's Sweets_ to take a look around. These were called "Lorelei Siren's Mood Drops" and were sold not exactly in flavors, but emotions. There was a guide on the back of each box (a pretty large box contained nearly seventy flavors) showing you what each flavor and color meant and how eating that one would make you feel.

A plump but friendly-looking woman with hazel eyes and curly chestnut-colored hair came up to Ron and said, "How do you do, sir? My name is Lorelei Siren, and I own this little candy store."

Ron shook the woman's hand. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, remembering to mind his manners in Occasion Alley, since these were upper class folk who were not used to rudeness. Besides, Ms. Siren seemed to be ready to make friends with new customers. "My name is Ron Weasley, and these are my friends Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

"Well, hello there!" said Ms. Siren to Harry and Hermione. She then turned to Harry and said, "You seem like a young gentleman with good taste, and apparently so does your friend Ron Weasley. Would you three care for a free sample of the Mood Drops?"

When she saw them stare at her (seeing as the price for a small box of Mood Drops cost about five Galleons each) she awkwardly said, "Or perhaps something else like my Luminescence Candy Bars? Once licked, they'll glow for hours." She turned to pick up a black box and then laughed. "Or perhaps a free sample of my Licorice Ropes? I neatly package these up, but the ropes never run out until you let someone else take a bite out of it." She just sighed when the three students were still staring in awe. After all, these were really fancy and expensive candies...who ever heard of giving away free samples for something so pricey?

Harry said, "I'll be willing to pay."

"Feel free to try the samples, Harry. How do you know you'll like something unless you try it first?" Ms. Siren chirped, her round cheeks turning a rosy pink

"Good point!" said Ron as he picked up a black Mood Drop. He asked Ms. Siren, "What is this flavor called?"

"Unless you've got a strong will, lad, I should warn you about the black Drops. Those are called Malice and are a favorite among my Death Eater and Slytherin clients. They will temporarily turn even a pure heart into a really dark one."

"Well, what about this one?" asked Hermione as she picked up a fiery red one.

"Oh, that one is Anger. Use that if you flunk a test or want to beat someone up." Ms. Siren said after that, "Well, let me see...the dark red ones are Bloodthirst, the ruby red ones are Anger, the pink ones are Romance and Passion, the tangerine colored ones are Energy, the orange ones are Hyper, the goldenrod ones are Self Confidence, the lemon yellow ones are Cheer, the pine green ones are Wisdom, the green ones are Wit, the lime green ones are Friendship, the navy blue ones are Suicide, the blue ones are Depression, the light blue ones are Serenity, the indigo ones are Creativity, the dark violet ones are Cruelty, the violet ones are Memory, the light violet ones are Kindness, the white ones are Purity and Honesty, the black ones are Malice, and the silver ones are Charisma. There are hundreds of variations and shades, but this is the basic chart. I hope that helps."

"Violet's Memory, right?" said Ron. He whispered to Hermione, "Well, Neville needs a violet Mood Drop every day, and he doesn't need to see a doctor to know that."

Hermione picked up a tangerine, Harry picked up a light violet, and Ron picked up a goldenrod and ate those, finding them delicious. Harry pulled out fifteen Galleons and said to Ms. Siren. "I'll take three small boxes of the Mood Drops."

Ms. Siren put the three boxes into a bag and smiled. "Just don't eat them all at once or you'll go insane. I had that happen to someone before." She sighed and looked pretty upset about that accident, and then popped a lemon Mood Drop in her mouth. "Well, enjoy your visit to Occasion Alley and come see me again sometime!"

Hermione found a small museum and wanted to go in. "I'll meet you and Harry right outside Siren's Sweets at sunset, okay?"

"Alright; have fun, Hermione," said Ron. "Well, Harry, where are we off to next?"

Harry looked everywhere, until he saw a smoky gray stone building with stained glass windows. "We're going there, Ron. I got a letter from one of the Professors, saying this was a good store to look at." Ron and Harry rushed into the store. The sign outside said in spidery letters, "Nezura's Curiosity."

Once inside, Harry gasped. The place was a lot larger than it appeared on the outside, and was probably the fanciest place he had ever seen. The mahogany walls were covered in ornate tapestries, impressive paintings, and really bizarre looking mirrors. He looked up to see a chandelier made of amethyst crystal and sapphires. It was really pretty, and the items on sale were spectacular. Ron was about to pass out when he saw a life-size emerald statue of an alicorn, and jumped when he saw a lifelike sculpture of Lord Voldemort.

"Harry, are you sure this is a safe place to shop? Who sent you that letter?"

Harry looked about, to find a statue of Dumbledore right next to the one of Voldemort, to see it was a two part piece entitled "_The Battle between Good and Evil_" by an artist who jokingly used the pen name "Pygmalion."

He turned to Ron and said, "It was from someone I had never heard of...some person named Professor Snitch grass."

The two friends looked at the fantastic crystal and gemstone displays, and looked at the other items in the store. There was an iron cage with the same lattice pattern as the cage Harry had been sent for Hedwig from Professor Snitchgrass. While looking further, Harry saw some really interesting books, sculptures, tonics, and other stuff like broomsticks, pets, paintings, clothing...apparently, and this place had practically everything, including a café.

"Harry, take a look at this!" shouted Ron.

Harry turned around to see a two piece set like the Dumbledore/Voldemort statue piece, only instead of Dumbledore, it was him. "Pygmalion" had entitled this piece, "_Yet another battle between Good and Evil_." Harry looked at the title and rolled his eyes. '_This fellow needs an indigo Mood Drop very badly when it comes to titles_,' he thought._ 'Beautiful sculptures, boring titles.'_

"Can I help you two boys?" a female voice asked out of nowhere.

Ron and Harry jumped when the owner of the store popped up from behind the statue. She was probably about four and a half feet tall and probably weighed about eighty pounds...she was very petite. Her short, dirty blonde hair was flipped at the bottom in a cute way, and she was wearing thin glasses and a shirt that looked like stained glass with baggy, black slacks. She looked like the type that loved anything unusual or rare.

"My name is Mitzi Nezura, and welcome to my little store in this lovely corner of the wizarding world."

"_Little_ store!" said Ron. "You're the only thing that's little, Miss!"

Nezura laughed at that comment and asked Ron if this was his first time here.

"As a matter of fact it is. So how about a quick tour?"

While Ron followed Nezura, Harry was looking around and then finally saw something that caught his eye. There was a small green box with a gold lattice design sitting there.

Above it was a sign that said, Display Only. _Open this box without the storekeeper's permission, and there will be serious repercussion, courtesy of Miss Nezura personally_

Harry turned toward Nezura and said, "Can you please tell me what is in that box?"

Nezura looked Harry in the eye (she was on her tiptoes) and said, "Sure, I'll show it to you and your little friend, but you better tell nobody what it is you saw in there, got it?" She opened up the box to show off seven pale blue eggs with silvery veins. "Those are griffin eggs, okay? If you want one, you'll have to pay me a small fortune." She giggled. "Hagrid was in here yesterday wanting to hold one of the eggs. I said he could, but he accidentally broke it picking it up. And you know what they say...you break it you buy it. That egg alone paid for my vacation!"

She turned to Harry. "Would you like a griffin? They're better than guard dogs and are pretty loyal creatures--"

Suddenly, the store's door opened and a voice Harry recognized said, "Mitzi? Is your store open _yet_? I need to get your opinion on a matter."

When Nezura said nothing in reply, the voice shouted, "It's a _very important_ matter!"

"All right, already!" snapped Nezura as she put the box of griffin eggs away. "If you would only shut up for five seconds, Severus, I would appreciate it a lot!"

Ron and Harry looked at Nezura's "guest" in disgust...who would have thought Professor Snape would be in Occasion Alley? Could he _afford_ it with his paycheck? "I wonder what he wants with Nezura," said Ron. "He sounded pretty pissed."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Nezura really didn't look too happy to see him, and I'm guessing they were probably attending Hogwarts around the same time." He then got a really bright idea; "Hey, Ron...why don't we listen to their _important conversation_?" When Ron agreed that this would be fun, the two friends leaned their ears to the door.

"Well, you dragged me out of my store, Severus...now what?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that sleep tonic I purchased from you."

Mitzi tapped her tiny foot and looked up at the teacher. "What about the sleep tonic?" she snapped. "Was there something wrong with it or did it work too well for your liking?"

"It worked _too_ well; I took an ounce of the damn stuff to help cure my insomnia and I woke up a week later. I lost part of my paycheck because your tonic was too potent. How do you weaken it? I recall, Mitzi, you said using water was a very bad idea."

Mitzi Nezura laughed at Snape and pointed a tiny finger at him. "You add vinegar, stupid. For all you have been through, you can be so _slow_ at times!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know _that_? Water works on most things."

"If you bought one of those cheap imitation tonics instead of the real deal, then water _would_ work. But you like me so much you buy the real deal, right?"

"Shut up, Mitzi. You know I can't stand you. I come here because I know your stuff works and that other shit doesn't."

"Can the colorful metaphors, Severus, while you are in my store."

"Oh, _now_ who's the stupid one?" taunted Snape. "I'm right outside your store."

Mitzi yawned and said, "I seriously hope that was _not_ your important matter."

Ron lifted his ear from the door. "Come on, Harry. Let's look around some more. Snape and Nezura are just bickering back and forth about some stupid sleep tonic." However, Harry kept his ear pinned to the door.

"You're right, Mitzi. There _is_ something even more important I need to discuss with you. This might come as a shock to you, but Remus Lupin was attacked yesterday, and all of his blood was drained from his body by the time his corpse was found."

Harry's eyes started to flood with tears at the mentioning of Lupin's name...he was dead_too_? Why Lupin? Why couldn't it have been someone he really _detested_ for a change?

"Oh, Severus, I'm so sorry to hear that. Remus was always so nice to me, too! Do you think your little friends are involved in this one, or do you think this is something completely different and unrelated?"

"They are _not_ my friends anymore, pipsqueak. I'm a veteran and no longer active. Besides, the Dark Mark wasn't found anywhere on the site. Put your foot where your mouth is."

"Well, what do you think it _was_ if the culprit wasn't a Death Eater?"

"Maybe something worse."

"Well, was it your niece, then? I remember you said she turned into _something_."

"Damn your curiosity, Mitzi! Cassandra can control herself, and so can Death Eaters! Whoever it was did a messy job, though. I barely recognized Remus when I saw his body outside my classroom."

"Then it was probably a Death Eater after all. Tell your little friends they have Nezura the Terrible to deal with. I'm now working undercover as a teacher, so let's keep that our little secret, okay?" There was a pause. "Maybe you can help me by spying over at Hogwarts for me. I assure you, Severus, you will be paid upon request..."

Harry waited for Professor Snape's reply, but was interrupted by a curious voice. "What are you doing?"

Harry nearly jumped a foot in surprise. He turned around to see a pale girl with glasses and raven black hair that almost touched her shoulders. She looked like she had been having a boring day up until now, and was probably just a little amused at seeing a guy her age eavesdropping on a merchant and a school teacher's private conversation. When the girl saw who Harry was, she laughed.

"Harry Potter, I'm guessing...I should have known it was you; many people say you're quite the snoop and rulebreaker over at Hogwarts. Is that why you're so eager to listen in on Mitzi's little talk with Severus?"

Harry looked at the strange girl and laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about!" he lied. "I was..." he then realized whoever-she-was had caught him. There was no other excuse for having your ear on a door besides eavesdropping.

"Okay, so I was listening in on them, but I had a very good reason. You see, Professor Snape is a rather narrow-minded fellow and only stays on one subject most of the time, so anything important to him must involve either the Dark Lord or me--or maybe even both of us--since that is all he ever talks about besides what lousy students today's Gryffindors are. But, I'm Harry Potter, like you guessed." Harry paused, "May I ask your name?"

The girl shook hands with Harry, and said, with a smirk on her face, "I'm Cassandra, niece of Professor Severus Snape, and a Sixth Year like you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Potter, and I'm sure I'll be seeing you in those Advanced Placement classes..." Cassandra raised a curious eyebrow, kept the smirk, and continued, "...that is, if you've got what it takes to pass! This is for the truly gifted _only_." She then looked at Harry for a reply. "Were you invited by a Professor to attend those classes or am I mistaken?"

Harry showed Cassandra the letter from Professor Snitchgrass. She nodded seriously, sighed, and then said in an interested voice, "Hm...Snitchgrass wrote this to you? That really is quite an honor, in case you didn't know. Snitchgrass teaches one of the most difficult classes in the entire school, and really seems to like you." She smiled (now that the smirk was gone, she was looking a bit friendlier) nicely and said, "Good for you, Potter. It requires true skill, knowledge, and talent to have someone like Snitchgrass notice you. She doesn't look at grades too often. I, on the other hand, had my letter come from Professor Ahsimal."

Now _Harry_ was the one raising eyebrows. "Who?"

"The Necromancy teacher. I'm sure you would like Ahsimal; he's probably the most interesting Professor you'll ever have...if you're lucky enough to have him." Cassandra sighed and said seriously, "He said that I'll probably be one of his star students if I sign up."

She turned to Harry. "He only recommends his class to the very promising and powerful." She looked around and then found a neatly cut crystal that easily fit in her palm. "Ah! This is what I've been looking for all day in here...I'll need a palm crystal for my Advanced Clairvoyancy class," she sighed, "It figures I find it right _after_ I give up and stop looking. Harry, if Professor Snitchgrass thinks you've got what it takes to keep up in the AP courses, then I encourage you to think about this carefully."

She then got a really sinister-looking smirk on her face and said darkly, "You'd probably be able to beat Voldemort in a heartbeat if you take the AP courses...they weren't available when he was in Hogwarts. Take advantage of his misfortune to come up on top...that is human nature, right?" She patted Harry on the shoulder. Her hand was cold as ice. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you at school, maybe even on the train. If you make the cut for AP, I will be glad to give you a brief overview of the teachers and courses."

Cassandra looked at him in a half interested manner with her dark green eyes. As she left the store, Cassandra waved and laughed darkly. Harry soon realized why...she'd left with a five-finger discount on the crystal, since her uncle was apparently still outside with Nezura. She seemed to be a bit of a rulebreaker, and perhaps a little arrogant, but nonetheless the type that liked a challenging adventure or a chance to prove her greatness...perhaps Cassandra Snape could be considered friend material?

Ron finally came back from the café where he had met up with a family friend, and asked Harry if he'd missed anything. "Not really, Ron," said Harry. "I just met Snape's niece, and she breaks the rules just about as much as we do...if not more."

Ron got a look of sheer disgust on his face. "I doubt anyone related to _Snape_ is someone we will want to have as a friend, Harry. Where is she?"

Harry looked around to see Snape was still outside, now shouting at the top of his lungs at Nezura (and giving her the middle finger), but Cassandra was nowhere in sight. He and Ron looked everywhere, but no trace of the lass could be found. Suddenly, Harry heard the door creak open, and saw Nezura and Snape had finally come into the store to finish their conversation.

"You know, Mitzi, I think Darius is a likely culprit...perhaps he's not as repentant as we thought. Oh! Cassandra, I see you found that crystal you needed for Lewn's class. Did you find that mirror too? I thought you said you needed that."

Cassandra was at the front desk, paying for the crystal she almost shoplifted and had a pewter rimmed mirror with a mace like pattern (the frame had spikes everywhere except the handle) the mirror glass had an antique yellowish tint to it, and the handle was neatly crafted.

"Fancy finding something like this, so out in the open..." she said passively. Maybe she thought nobody heard her as she stroked the handle gently.

"Ron," said Harry as he pointed to the frail-looking girl gazing into the antique handheld mirror with interest. "That's Cassandra Snape." Harry called out Cassandra's name and rushed over toward the front desk. "I thought you left the store without paying for that!" He was surprised to see the look of amusement on her face.

"Oh, you mean the palm crystal? No, I went outside to ask Mitzi how much it was." She snickered a bit and then turned to Ron. "Did he _actually_ think I would steal a palm crystal when I can easily afford to get one legally? Stealing from Nezura's Curiosity, or any other store in Occasion Alley for that matter, is a sure-fire way to spend two days in Azkaban. Thank you very much, but I want to keep my well-earned scholarships."

She then got a really funny look on her face (the big smirk again and narrowed eyes) and asked with curiosity, "Are you telling me, Potter, that _you_ would steal from Nezura? Sure, she's tiny, but she is a really good fighter...and she's hiding something very important."

"Well, what is it?" asked Ron. "You've got my attention!"

The girl almost opened her mouth and then gave them the smirk. "It's a secret." She then took one look at Ron and studied him quickly. "Red hair, sense of curiosity and adventure, able to speak your mind...you've got to be a Weasley." The way she said this was in a toneless, dry way...similar to the way Snape talked. She then closed her eyes and put her ring fingers together and mumbled something. Harry and Ron were too scared to run off...but what if this was a curse or something? Suddenly, Cassandra's eyes opened and she got an emotionless expression on her face.

"Ronald Weasley, is it?" she said out loud. Ron was as pale green as an unripe crabapple. "And your dream is to be Quidditch captain someday? You're Harry's best friend, and a good person to depend on..." she paused, her eyes completely widened, and she started to clean her glasses. "That is what I got from your mind, at least."

Harry's eyes (and Ron's too) were wide open. "Did you learn that in Divination?"

Cassandra laughed. "No, I learned that trick at last year's summer tutorial hosted by Professor Lewn, the Clairvoyancy teacher." She paused, and then said in a somewhat more chatty voice, "They say Lewn found the Fountain of Youth and shares its location to her closest friends and favorite students."

She then looked at her watch and said, "Damn! I didn't realize I was running late!" She turned toward Harry and Ron and said, "I'll see you two and Hermione on the Hogwarts Express next week, probably...and I know we will meet at school sooner or later. Ask those you know well, whether you like them or not, if they know me and where I can be found. I'm far behind my schedule, so please excuse me."

With that, Cassandra rushed out of the store with her purchases, swearing under her breath that she was going to miss part of her seminar.

"She seems a little, well...weird," said Ron. He then looked outside to see the sun was setting. "Harry, we've got to meet Hermione outside the candy store, like we all agreed to do! This store isn't going anywhere."

Ron left the store to keep Hermione company, but Harry wanted to take a quick look at something...there was a small set of books on the history of the Dark Arts that seemed to be so thick, it would be a disappointment if they didn't go through every single detail.

He reached out his hand to pick up one of the books, but then he felt someone breathe down his neck. "I think you should follow your friend, Harry." It was Nezura, and she looked a little worried. "Are you going to make a purchase, or not? I need to close the store until my nocturnal hours start, so if you see anything you want to buy, let's get it purchased now, all right?"

She sighed. "You understand that I'm a busy person, and even those with a crammed schedule like mine need a little nap between shifts. Be considerate." Harry put All That Glitters Can Be Turned to Gold by Icarus Parenein on the counter and paid Nezura what he owed her. "I hope you will come back here next summer, because I close the store while school's in session. Business runs a little slow when most of my customers are either teaching or being taught, you understand."

She then put the book in a bag and said to Harry, "I can tell you this now...you're in for a lot of surprises and unexpected challenges this year, but not all of these are going to be bad. Trust me." Nezura's nose twitched, and then she asked politely if Harry would help her close up.

"Sorry, Ms. Nezura. I've…er…got to meet a friend," said Harry. "Good luck in finding someone to help out."

After Harry left, Mitzi Nezura sighed, "Well, that was rude!" She looked at all the fingerprints on the mirrors, the dust on the furniture, and all the spills in the café area and sighed again in tiredness. "Nobody cares about me..."

Harry and Ron waited outside the Siren's Sweets store, and finally saw Hermione come out. In her arms were six boxes of Mood Drops, and three lavender and silver boxes that said "Lorelei's Gourmet Sweets Sampler" on them. "There you two are!" she said. "I finished looking at the London Witches Hall of Fame, and I came back here to wait on you and Ron. It turns out that Ms. Siren needed help with her store for a while, so I volunteered."

She held up the candies and ten Galleons. "She said it was really generous of me to help her out, so she paid me. The sweets are for all three of us, and she is encouraging us to be nice and share with our friends."

"Share stuff this valuable?" asked Ron. "Let's make it our little secret! Siren never needs to know we ate it. Besides, you'd be sharing with us, Hermione, so that counts."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Ron's right. Siren's Sweets is our secret place to go sweetshopping now, so why spoil it? If we tell the others at Hogwarts, then everyone will be trashing Occasion Alley! Do we want that?" He answered himself with, "I think not." He finally convinced his friends it would be good to keep this a hidden and private stash.

Ron tapped Harry's shoulder and muttered, "Don't look now, Harry...but I don't think Snape's the only familiar person we're going to be running into." He pointed to the person leaving a store called Moon's Potent Tonics...none other than Draco Malfoy. A gangly boy was with him.

"Damn," said Harry. "Wasn't _Snape_ enough?"

Luckily for them, Draco didn't see them; the fellow was too busy talking to a scrawny Fourth-Year-to-be (who was at least a head taller than him) to see Harry and his friends outside the gourmet candy shop.

"You heard about Lupin, right?"

The tall boy nodded, said he was sorry to read the report that was in the Daily Prophet about the attack, and asked Draco if he'd seen the pictures. "Yeah, but I'm pretty sure Snape didn't do it...he's trying very hard to convince the Ministry of Magic that Darius Ahsimal did it and tried to frame him. My dad's into this sort of thing; he likes something exciting to happen to people he doesn't like. Once the true murderer is discovered, then we can make sure Snape doesn't go to Azkaban, and we'll get paid a huge sum for the capture of this murderer."

The fourteen year old boy next to Draco flinched and asked what made him think they could get away with that. "Well, Rick, if Potter, Granger, and Weasley can do it, I see no reason why we can't. My grades are a lot better than his, and I doubt he got a letter like we both did, inviting him to Advanced Placement!"

Rick flinched again. "I think we need to find a girl that's all brains like Granger, only a Pureblood like us and a lot stronger, before we do something. I don't want to end up like Lupin; dead, bleeding, and mutilated." He held up the article he cut out. "Do I need to show you those dreadful pictures again?"

"Rick," said Draco. "I think it would be good to get Cassandra Snape to join our little group. After all, we _are_ trying to prove her uncle innocent. The trick will be getting her to trust us. Since I haven't had summer courses and didn't get my letter from Professor Leir until August, I bet she's going to treat me like a lowlife. I've never spoken to her before, so I can't be sure, can I?"

Rick pointed toward Siren's Sweets. "Say...Draco? Isn't that Potter with Weasley and Granger over there? Think they'd help?"

"I know they wouldn't!" hissed Draco. "They don't appreciate Snape's work, and they hate me...but I must admit the feeling is mutual." He turned to Rick. "Since you're a Fourth Year and a formerly homeschooled student, there is a lot you've got to learn from me before we go up to Potter."

He turned toward Harry and shouted. "Potter, what are you doing in Occasion Alley? I thought this stuff was too expensive for you and Granger...and I know for a fact Weasley can't even buy a Mood Drop without having to mortgage his home first."

"Leave us alone, Malfoy," said Ron. "We'll deal with you at Hogwarts."

Draco ignored Ron, and continued to introduce his friend to the Gryffindors. "This is a close friend of mine, and his name is Rick Fallowin." Rick politely said hello to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "No need for manners on Granger and Weasley, Rick. Granger's a mudblood, and Weasley's as poor as dirt. And Potter won't appreciate your politeness."

Hermione pitched in on the conversation. "We'll continue on this discussion next week, Malfoy. Harry, Ron, and I need to head home for a few last-minute items, so I guess we'll see you and Rick at school."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

A New Professor, and the Chaos Onboard the Hogwarts Express

"Well, Ron, make sure you keep Harry safe, okay?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "And make sure Ginny and your cousin Winnefred stay out of trouble!"

"Sure thing, mum," mumbled Ron as he rushed to Platform 9 3/4. Harry followed, and then Ron whispered something to Harry. "Can you believe my mum asked me to do something as stupid as to make sure Ginny stays out of trouble? She _never_ does anything wrong...except that one time four years ago, but that's ancient history, right?"

"She didn't mean to do that stuff, so she's innocent," agreed Harry, but then he decided to ask Ron something. "But what about your cousin? What's the problem with Winnefred?"

Ron groaned. "Oh, Winnefred's trouble, no matter how you look at her. She's going to be a First Year this year, and she's already gotten into trouble with the Ministry of Magic for underage wizardry, and for disturbing the peace. It's been harmless stuff like making someone's pet poodle sing opera instead of yapping all the time, and making some guy start tap dancing in front of everyone. Winnefred's got a criminal record for mischievous misconduct and shoplifting, but that's about it." Ron gulped, and then continued. "This may not come as a shocker, but when it comes to practical jokes and gags, Winnefred's heroes are Fred and George."

Ron's eyes lit up and then he grinned at Harry. "How about we introduce Winnefred to her Potions teacher _personally_ once we go to the banquet? I bet Snape will _love_ her!" The word 'love' was said in so much joking sarcasm, that Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Let me tell you, Harry... my Aunt Melissa and Uncle Patrick can't stand Winnefred, and they're her _parents_!"

While Ron and Harry were discussing all the funny stuff Winnefred had done with her little friends Steve Goldman and Meredith Fallowin, they bumped into the third member of their posse. "Why, hello again, Hermione!" said Harry. "I hope you haven't been waiting on us for very long."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made it to the Hogwarts Express and got their seats together. "Well, one more year begins, and after the one after this, we graduate," said Ron. "It's going to be kind of sad, though, I'll see less and less of you two after I join the Ministry of Magic like my dad."

Hermione sighed. "I have plans of staying at Hogwarts after this and taking the courses needed to become a teacher. I want to help the next generation be strong."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what I want to do...I want to be an Auror, but I don't really have the grades for it..."

"Well, you've got another year to worry about that, right? Don't let it trouble you; your right course will be revealed sooner or later, I promise," said a fourth voice. Ron, Hermione, and Harry turned to see a Professor they had never seen at Hogwarts before. She was very petite, and had a bit of a mousy appearance. "Hello; I'm going to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." She turned to them and took off her pinstripe hat. Harry recognized her immediately.

"_Miss Nezura!"_ Ron and Harry said in shock. This was rather unexpected!

"That's _Professor_ Nezura to you, Weasley!" she said jokingly. She then turned toward Harry and smiled. "I know the three of you are required to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, right? Well, since the days are getting darker, we've decided to crank the pace up a bit. We will be working a lot faster, and covering stuff a lot deeper, than Quirrell, Lockhart, Lupin, Moody, _and_ Umbridge put together. You will either love or detest my class, but you cannot escape it."

She held out her silky hand to shake with Harry's. "It would make matters a lot simpler if we were on the same side and had no grudges, right?" She smiled warmly. "I usually can't stay angry at a person for long." As she and Harry shook hands she flatly said, "I can understand you had a lot to do when I asked you to help me close up my store, but I guess I was mistaken to think you had the time to help an exhausted lady for about ten minutes. It was selfish of me, wasn't it?"

"Not at all!" said Harry. "I was just a little busy too." To tell the truth, he felt a little bad about not helping Professor Nezura. She was very forgiving, apparently, but after overhearing her conversation with Professor Snape, he knew Nezura was not all "sugar & honey" like she was letting on...he'd really have to try hard to get used to having this pipsqueak as his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher instead of Professor Lupin, who had said in late July that he would be coming back. Nezura was probably not going to be a popular teacher, but perhaps the class would be easier for Harry if he made friends with her. "I'm really sorry, Professor Nezura."

Nezura giggled girlishly and flexed her left hand. "You three can call me Mitzi if you like...as long as you don't do that during my class time period, then everybody's happy. Being called _Professor Nezura_ or even _Ms_. Nezura really irritates me because it makes me feel like I'm getting old like McGonagall or Dumbledore. I'm in my thirties, so I'm not an old-timer _yet_. I've still got a few years left to be young, right?"

She looked at her watch and gasped. "Speaking of McGonagall, I need to make a very important telephone call right now. I'll see you three at the banquet tonight, okay? Take it easy and try to make some more new friends this year, alright? Well, ciao!" She gracefully waltzed to the outside of the small room, and pulled out something restricted in the wizarding world...an enchanted cell phone.

"Nezura thinks she's getting _old_?" said Ron. "You'd think she was _Charlie's_ age by the way she tidies up! She doesn't even look thirty, so what's she so worried about?" He stuck his head outside the door to look at Professor Nezura. "I bet my mum would _kill_ to look like that. She's got a very nice rack, doesn't she, Harry?" When Harry nodded in agreement, everyone got a nice laugh out of that rather vulgar observation.

Suddenly, there was another knock on the cabin door, and two Slytherins came in. It was Draco and Rick, and they probably weren't there to say something nice. Surprisingly, Rick politely said, "Hello," and then asked all three of the Gryffindors how they were doing. "Draco and I are here about that little meeting we had with you three last week in Occasion Alley." He turned to Draco and asked, "Should I tell them what we've been up to the past four days?"

Draco shrugged. "Go ahead, but don't waste manners on them."

Rick sighed. "Draco and I have been trying to get a group of clever students who got the AP letters to help us find out who _really_ killed Lupin. Since my aunt's a teacher over at Hogwarts and has access to the list of all the students, it was really easy to get names."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well, who's your aunt, Rick?

"

"Professor Trelawney," said Rick in a tone that made it sound as if Trelawney was just an ordinary favorite aunt. "Anyway, as I was looking through the document, I ran across the names _Hermione Granger_, _Ron Weasley_, and _Harry Potter_ among other students who show a lot of potential. I was even shocked to find out Snape has a niece. I asked Draco if he knew you guys; he said he did, but not fondly. I had to convince him that working together might not be a bad idea."

"Just don't think this makes us friends, Potter," snapped Draco bitterly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Malfoy!" Harry snapped back. Ever since the beginning of his Hogwarts school days, Harry couldn't remember a time when he _didn't_ detest Draco. However, this Rick Fallowin was a completely different character. He seemed curious, positive, and exceptionally friendly, and those were all traits Harry had never seen in a Slytherin before. "What would people say?" He turned to see Ron, Hermione, and Rick had rolled their eyes at that comment.

"Does it matter?" asked Rick. "I don't let peer pressure bother me too much."

Draco laughed at that, and decided to pick on his younger friend. He pointed at the enormous mole Rick had on the left side of his nose and said, "You need to either pluck that, or get it removed. That mole has _got_ to go." When Rick tried to cover it up, everybody laughed. "You little hypocrite," teased Draco. "We have so much in common, and that's why I'm friends with you." He turned toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and said, "Rick is like a little brother to me. We're so alike."

Ron whispered to Harry, "I don't see anything in common with those two besides the fact that they're both getting good grades. Rick acts _nothing_ like Malloy."

Rick gave a friendly smile toward Harry, "Would it be too much trouble to help us?"

Draco added to Rick's question by saying, "Let me rephrase that, Potter. Would it be too much to help put Professor Lupin's troubled soul to rest by finding out who killed him? I know how much he meant to you. The fact that you'd be working with Rick and me is just an oversight. You don't want to be seen with me, and I don't want to be seen with you...but we're working for a common goal here. Besides, nobody needs to know about this."

"I hate to say it," said Ron, "but Malfoy almost sounds human." He turned to Harry and Hermione and added, "I did get an AP letter, and I would like to find out who killed Lupin. I'll help these two out if you two do."

Hermione sighed. "I'm with Ron. Harry, it's your call."

Harry didn't know what to say. He had never heard Draco talk like this before, and it was beginning to scare him. "I guess it wouldn't be too bad helping you."

Rick smiled. "I'm so glad you saw things my way. I look forward to your help." He shook hands with Hermione and Ron. "I even hope that we can become friends later on in time. Well, we have about half an hour until the train arrives, so I might as well stay with you fine people."

"Oh, give me a break, Rick!" said Draco. "You're _some_ comedian!"

Suddenly, the train car started to shake and all of the lights went out. Terrified, Rick screamed. "Shut up!" whispered Draco. "Do you want whatever-it-is to come in here and get us?" Rick muttered a 'no,' and Draco snapped, "I thought so. Keep your mouth shut, okay?"

Rick was apparently scared out of his mind. He shakily said, "okay," and then muttered something under his breath. "Let this be nothing but a nightmare...let this all be a bad dream...oh, please let me wake up...let me wake up..."

Draco slapped Rick to shut him up. "Didn't I tell you to can it?" he snapped quietly. "It's going to hear you and we're all going to die if you keep your mouth open." After that comment, Rick was as quiet as the grave.

Harry and Hermione hid under their seats, and Ron hid with Rick and Draco. Suddenly, they heard footsteps that were quickly getting louder. "I sense it stronger in here, Mortius. Let's try this room out," they heard a slightly raspy voice say.

"Necro, you've said that about ten times at the least in the past five minutes. Are you affirmative this is the right room?" said a deeper voice. This was probably "Mortius" speaking, whoever he was. What he wanted was only too easy to guess. He and "Necro" were probably Voldemort's minions out to get Harry. Those were the first thoughts of the hiding students in Cabin 54 when they heard these two speak. They didn't sound pleasant.

Necro, the raspy-voiced fellow, stuck a foot into the small cabin. "I'm almost positive he's in here. If we bring him to our master, we'll be promoted!"

"I'm not so sure about that, Necro, but he did say he'll pay a lot for the capture of anyone who betrays the Death Eaters. Your senses better not be wrong, or I'll knock some sense into you, Necro, you dunderhead!" Mortius snapped. He sounded very irritable and frustrated with his "friend." They heard a thud, and then a whimpering sound.

"Why'd you trigger that nasty blackout, Mortius? I wanted the kids to see us and cower in fear!" Necro whined. "I like the attention; it makes me feel powerful!"

"Damn it, Necro! You must have gotten even stupider since the last time I was stuck with you. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm going undercover as a teacher, and I can't afford to have my identity revealed to anyone? We're here to get certain people. If someone gets in our way, we dispose of them, okay? The lives of the Hogwarts students are expendable, and so are those of the teachers. And don't you forget that, no matter what. Do you understand me, you dunderhead?"

"I...I..." Necro stuttered. "I think so, Mortius." He then said, "Do you need your cloak before we turn the power back on?"

"What do you think, idiot? Of course I do! Give me that!" Mortius put an invisibility cloak on and then gave Necro the word to turn the power on in the room.

Harry heard one set of footsteps leave, but he saw a pair of black centurion-style sandals by his face. He also saw the tattered end of a pitch black cloak. Suddenly, his eyes were staring into two large orange ones.

"Why hello there," said the ratty-looking man. "My name is Necro, and I'm with the Death Eaters. Perhaps you can help me out." He then saw Hermione, and turned around to find Rick, Ron, and Draco. "Aren't you Lucius's son?" Necro asked Draco. Draco hesitantly answered with a 'yes,' and then Necro laughed. "I won't hurt you and the Fallowin boy because you're Slytherins and I have a soft spot for your families, but don't think I'll let you go until I'm done interrogatin' all of you." Necro then pointed at Harry and said, "Draco, I know you wouldn't lie to a fellow Slytherin. So, tell me...is that Harry Potter?"

Harry gulped, knowing his life would probably end in an instant if Malfoy decided to reveal his identity. "I couldn't help but overhear your partner Mortius a minute ago, and I have to agree with him," said Draco.

"You _are_ a dunderhead to think that my friend looks like Harry Potter. Timothy is a very talented Slytherin, like Rick and I both are."

Necro raised a greasy eyebrow, shrugged, and sighed. "I guess you're right, Master Malfoy. Maybe I'm losing it..."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Draco had actually _lied_ to protect him. Suddenly, Necro was in his face. "Sorry for thinkin' you were Harry Potter, Timothy." The gangly man turned pink in the cheeks from embarrassment. Obviously, he was a true moron; he had believed Draco and thought he had accused a Slytherin of being Harry Potter.

Harry stood up and raised his wand to face his stupid opponent. "Necro, is it? Doesn't that name mean 'dead?' Curious..." He got a broad smirk on his face and aimed the wand's target point at Necro. "I _am_ Harry Potter, stupid! Who is it you want? Tell me, or you'll _be_ 'necro'!"

He turned to Hermione. "Do you know any petrification spells that will hold this guy?" When she nodded, signifying she did know a spell, Harry continued, "You're outwitted and outnumbered! Who do you want?"

Necro whimpered, "I was going to leave you alone, okay? You're not my target today. How about we call it even? I scared you, you've scared me! Let me go!"

Harry moved his wand closer. "You didn't answer me, Necro. Who is your target? Who are you and this Mortius fellow out to get?" He really wanted to know.

"Oh, please, spare me! Let me go, I beg you!"

"We'll let you go if you answer our questions!" snapped Harry. He had no intentions of letting this man go. Once he got the answers he wanted, he planned on sending some of the more powerful teachers in here to subdue the Death Eater. Then the plan would be to call the Ministry of Magic to arrest this man. If this strategy came into effect, then Necro would be spending the rest of his sad, pathetic life inside Azkaban where he belonged. The only purpose this statement served was as a false hope of escape for Necro…a mocking graft.

"Okay, okay!" Necro whined. "All I can tell you is it's someone you don't like anyway. I hope that calms your appetite and satisfies you for an answer!"

"Not good enough!" hissed Draco as he stood up, with his wand pointed at the Death Eater. "Need some help, Potter?"

"I've got everything under control, Malfoy. Just go get a teacher in here; Professor Nezura or someone like her." Harry held his wand directly at Necro's forehead now. "We wouldn't want my wand to misfire, now would we?"

Necro's tan skin turned paper white in fear. "Be careful. You could put an eye out holding it like that...or worse!" The man really didn't look so fearsome now...he looked terrified himself. "Please, don't hurt me!" He whined and kept up the charade for a while. However, he then reached for his wand, which was in his left pocket.

Harry didn't see Necro's trick, but Ron did. _"Expelliarmus!"_ he shouted. "Harry, get his wand before he catches it!"

Harry jumped up and got Necro's wand. "That was pretty sneaky. I didn't think a moron like you would be smart enough to try something like that. Lucky for me, I've got some really observant friends. Thanks, Ron." He then turned around. "Rick, it's okay. I've subdued Necro for the time being." He then held his wand at range point at Necro again. "Now, how about you tell me who you were sent to attack?"

The Death Eater stopped the panicky attitude, and then got a large grin on his face. "You're afraid to hurt me, aren't you? I don't have to tell you anything...I know you sent Lucius's boy to go get Dumbledore or someone until the Ministry of Magic gets here to take me to Azkaban. You don't intend on letting me go, but you don't want to kill me because you want answers. I'm not afraid of you or your little friends. You're expendable to our cause, and I think I should teach you a lesson."

Necro then lunged at Harry, and seized his wand. _"Morsmorde!"_ he shouted in a loud, piercing voice. The lights turned pale green, and the Dark Sign appeared in the room...the emerald skull with the snake coming out of the mouth. The train started speeding up and the sights outside the cabin's window changed from the green scenery of healthy trees to a sickeningly pale green light that smelled like rosemary and embalming fluid. _"Magarus Avedra!"_ he added as the second part of the spell. The ground started to shake and a glowing green mist started to seep from the floor. Harry saw a pale figure in the mist, with a cadaverous hand beginning to reach for his neck...

"Harry! I've got him; now's a good time to get away!" shouted a frustrated voice. Harry turned to see Professor Nezura raise her wand against the furious Death Eater who raised his in response. "It's not going to be safe in here. Leave the cabin and make sure everyone gets out. Once you do that, make sure one of you calls the Ministry of Magic and tell them to come as soon as possible!" Harry looked to see everyone was in the hall, even Rick.

"I'm glad to see you came out okay, Harry. Did he hurt you?" Rick sounded concerned. "I managed to save Hermione's sweets she got from Ms. Siren."

"You did?" Hermione said with excitement. "Well, hand them over, and I'll give you some of the better Mood Drops."

Draco sighed. "I got Professor Nezura to go in there, just like you asked me to do. I just hope she doesn't need backup, because I don't plan on going back in there."

"Well, Nezura's no weakling," said Harry. "When I was at her store last week, I overheard her tell Snape she's an undercover Auror for the Ministry of Magic. To do something like that, she'd have to be a pretty powerful witch, right?"

"She's either got a lot of skill," said Ron, "or a lot of guts and has no fear of a slow and painful death." He looked around and sighed. "I'm just glad I was able to get all of my stuff out of there before something really bad happened."

"I'm glad I got my things out too," said Rick. "I tried to get some of the items you four left behind, but I couldn't get everything, you know."

"You got Crookshanks for me, didn't you?" asked Hermione. "Rick?"

"I sure did, Miss Granger!" said the gangly Fourth Year. "Your cat's just fine."

Suddenly, Harry came to a horrid realization..._Hedwig was still in the cabin!_

He rushed back in to get his owl, and gasped when he saw what was going on in Cabin 54 of the Hogwarts Express. Necro was cruelly dueling Professor Nezura. She had a nasty gash on the left side of her dainty face, and she was shaking uncontrollably. She tried to raise her wand against the Death Eater, but he stopped her in midair.

"You're dust, Professor!" sneered Necro. "I can't believe you'd be so naive as to think you could actually defeat someone powerful, like me! _Magarus Avedra!"_ Professor Nezura let out a bloodcurdling shriek as she was thrashed against the walls, leaving blood wherever she landed.

She wearily gathered herself up and tried to stand. She raised her wand again, _"Sophorus Moritum!"_ she screamed shrilly. The spell hit the Death Eater and he stumbled backward at the same time she did. After she hit the floor, she turned weakly toward Harry. "I thought I told you I could handle this guy," she said. "I'm trying to save you and your friends, and now you're stopping me from doing so by putting your life at risk."

Harry looked at Professor Nezura. "I came back to get Hedwig, and to see if you needed any help." He really was worried; she didn't look like she was okay.

"I can put up with Necro until the Ministry of Magic gets here!" shouted Professor Nezura. She didn't sound angry or frustrated at Harry...she sounded like her pride was severely hurt and she was really worried; it was obvious she wanted to beat Necro by herself. "Let me be!"

"_Magarus Avedra!"_ Necro shouted. The earthshaking spell hit Professor Nezura again and again. The little lady was really taking a beating, but she looked determined to save Harry. "Nezura, you're not my target either. I'll leave everyone alone if you hand over the guy we want!"

Professor Nezura looked like she was in no mood for small talk. "Necro, if you send me to Death, you're coming with me. I can guarantee you that with a promise!" She lunged at Necro, and he lunged at her, and their duel progressed. "Harry, get out of here!"

Harry got his owl and rushed out of the cabin. "Ron, did anybody call the Ministry of Magic and tell them we have a dangerous Death Eater over here attacking a teacher?"

"I sure did!" said Ron. "They're sending some officers and a Dementor over here right now as we speak." He smiled. "That Necro fellow is _really_ going to like Azkaban, isn't he?" he said with sarcasm. "He deserves it, after what he did to us."

"How's Professor Nezura?" asked Draco. "Is she doing okay against Necro?"

Harry bit his lip. "She's taking a beating, but she wouldn't let me help her."

"Well, we can either wait here and do nothing or help Professor Nezura fight this criminal. She's risked her life to help us. Why don't we return the favor?"

"Rick's got a point," said Ron. He shrugged and started to tap his foot. "I say we help her out until the Ministry of Magic reaches Cabin 54." He rushed off with Hermione, Rick, and Draco following. "What do you say to that, Harry?"

Harry nodded in agreement. "She needs our help, whether she'd admit it or not." He put Hedwig and his suitcase in a safe spot and then followed his friends and his rival. They all rushed down the corridor until they reached the cabin they had occupied about an hour ago. He opened the door, and watched as everyone cringed when they saw the duel still in progress.

Professor Nezura had a broken arm and she was gushing blood in several areas. Necro looked almost untouched, except for some slash marks where Nezura's sharp fingernails had gotten him. He did look pretty tuckered out, though. A lot of his energy had been drained. However, he was still up...but so was Nezura. "Give it up, Mitzi. I could easily defeat you, but you're just too much fun to kill. Get out of my way, and I won't hurt you or the students. I'm after someone else!" The Death Eater gave a devious laugh as he raised the suffering Professor in the air. _"Magarus Avedra!"_

Suddenly, Draco got an idea. He had taken in the fact that Necro had been pretty weak when Harry had disarmed him of his wand. He was almost positive his plan would work, and he wanted to help the gutsy little Professor. _"Expelliarmus!"_ he shouted the spell as loudly as he could, but Harry had done the same thing at the same time. Necro's wand flew out of his hand and landed in Professor Nezura's. The petite teacher turned to see her rescuers, and smiled.

"Thanks, both of you. I should have thought of that one earlier." With that, Professor Nezura sneered at Necro, "Who's got the power _now_, stupid?" She handed Necro's wand to Draco and tried to hug Harry. She immediately let go and cringed due to the pain brought on from her wounds.

"I can't thank you two enough...maybe I needed a little help after all." She winked at Harry and Draco, then said sweetly, "I'm going to mention this little catastrophe at the speech I'm making tonight. I think Gryffindor and Slytherin should both start out the school year with a big bang, don't you? Since a Gryffindor and a Slytherin came to the aid of a teacher in distress, I think about five hundred points each should suffice." She then laughed, "Of course, I'll have you two recognized and make sure you get awards and special privileges for this. It was truly a noble deed, although I recall telling you guys I could handle Necro personally."

Ron and Rick tied Necro to the seat, and Hermione pulled out some spellotape to put over his mouth so he couldn't utter any curses. Necro sat there, temporarily muted, tied up, and definitely furious about his downfall. The five students and the teacher sat down in Cabin 54, glad this little misfortune was over. Hermione was sitting with Rick, who checked to make sure nobody was missing anything. Harry and Draco, however, were taking a look at how badly Professor Nezura had been injured in her little altercation against Necro. She was terribly bloodied up and had a bone jutting out of her left thigh. Harry could tell the fierce little teacher was in excruciating pain, but he could also tell she was trying to look tough by attempting to hold back tears

. "Well, that hurt," Nezura said lightheartedly. She was trying to make the best of the situation...and was doing a pretty good job.

About half an hour later, the Ministry of Magic showed up to take Necro to Azkaban. Harry recognized one of the officers as none other than Phoebus Stellian the Delivery Guy. "You were right when you said that I would see you again...I just didn't expect you to work for the Ministry of Magic. Phoebus, this is quite a surprise!"

"Dude, I _told_ you I had tons of jobs," Phoebus said. He then turned to see Professor Nezura and he said, "Hey, Mitzi! Long time no see!"

Professor Nezura turned bright pink and then growled, "Shut up, Phoebus. Just, shut up."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

The Return to Hogwarts

After Necro had been dealt with, Harry and the others who had helped in the Death Eater's capture were given a very handsome reward. Suddenly, a blonde woman built like a beanpole came in carrying a really big camera and a notepad in her hand. "Excuse me!" she said as she rudely pushed Phoebus Stellian out of the way.

"My name is Leah Crowe, and I'm with the Daily Prophet. Could I please interview you? This will be such a nice, juicy story and I need all the help I can get if I want a promotion!" She smiled and asked Harry, "So, Harry Potter, how did you single-handedly rescue Nezura from this notorious lawbreaker?"

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just let the first words he thought of come through his mouth. "I remembered that wizards usually can't do much once you take their wands from them, so I tried to think of a spell to disarm Necro. The result was a standard spell used in our practice duels up at school, but it did the trick. However, I wasn't the only one who thought of that."

Draco jumped in. "That's right, Potter! I shouted the same spell at the same time, so I deserve just as much credit as you do for helping Nezura beat Necro!"

Leah looked at the Gryffindor and the Slytherin. "So, Harry, you and Draco Malfoy rescued your soon-to-be Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Harry sighed, knowing that his friends at Hogwarts would probably never let him live this down, "You could say that. I guess great minds think alike."

Harry could tell Leah was about to harp on some other matters, but Professor Nezura quickly came to his rescue. "How about you interview _me_? I was the one that did everything except disarm the Death Eater, so don't I get my picture in the paper, too?"

She then pulled Leah to the side, and whispered something that sounded a bit threatening in the reporter's ear. Harry couldn't hear what it was, but he did see Professor Nezura wave a fist in Leah Crowe's face in a rather menacing way. The teacher then snapped, "When do I get my damn leg fixed? Can't you nitwits see I'm in pain?" Harry laughed. This was going to be an interesting year for Defense Against the Dark Arts indeed.

After the train reached Hogwarts, Professor Nezura was sent off to the infirmary. "Will she be at the feast tonight?" asked Hermione. "I wouldn't want her to miss anything she was looking forward to." She then sighed. "If she isn't going to be able to make it, I'll request my meal to be sent to the infirmary, so I can keep her company."

Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, laughed. "Oh, she'll be fine in probably half an hour. We're going to clean up this mess and have her patched up in no time, so don't you worry about her, Miss Granger. Just you and your friends enjoy your first day back."

Harry asked, "Will Professor Nezura be okay?"

Nezura popped up from the stretcher and gave a thumbs-up. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm a survivor." She forced a laugh and then told the nurses to move it. "I'll see you and the others in a little while, I promise. Madame Pomfrey will fix me up as fast as she can, and I think that's pretty speedy. Tell me if I miss anything fun...like another Death Eater attack or an outburst from a rebellious student!" She winked at Harry as she left.

Harry looked behind him to see that Draco and Rick were nowhere in sight. '_They probably rushed off to find some other friends in their House so they can talk about what happened.'_ Harry was sure Draco would probably exaggerate to the point where it would look like _he_ had only been their sidekick.

He looked around to find Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey. "Harry!" Colin said, "I'm so glad to see you! How was your summer? Did you enjoy your break from school too?"

Neville asked curiously, "What happened to that teacher? She looked like she lost in a pretty brutal duel."

Ron sighed. "That's Professor Nezura, and she got beaten up by a Death Eater on the way over here. The duel took place in Cabin 54."

"Well, that's good," said Neville. "Ginny, Luna, and I were in Cabin 38, so I'm really glad to hear we were away from the danger. I hate Death Eaters, _especially_ Bellatrix Lestrange."

After the carriage ride to the castle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed into the Great Hall for the Introductory Feast, like they had tried to do since their first year. It was good to see Hagrid and most of the other teachers again. Professor McGonagall even waved at them in the corridor leading to the Great Hall. "I hope you three stayed out of trouble over the summer," she said jokingly.

The three friends sat at the Gryffindor table and began to eat. Harry looked over at the Slytherin table to see Rick was looking back at him with a shy smile on his face. Malfoy, however, was eating his food, enjoying himself, and not paying attention to anything else. Harry scanned the table to see another familiar Slytherin face he had met not too long ago; _Cassandra Snape_. She was sitting in her seat, reading and writing in a small book bound in green leather, and sipping a little glass of black tea. Harry then focused over at the table where the teachers were sitting.

Suddenly, Dumbledore got up and said, "This school year has already started out with some unexpected events, for good and for evil. First, I will present our bad news. We have had a lot of problems with the Death Eaters lately, and have even lost our beloved ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin recently. Our world is in danger, and I urge you students to be extremely careful this year. However, not all news is bad. The good news is that we can still continue our school year on a regular basis, since we quickly found a good replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts. After the Sorting Ceremony, I would like to introduce everyone to our three new Professors, and call out the names for our new Advanced Placement program we are fondly nicknaming 'Hawkbane' in honor of the late Agnes Hawkbane, who had been donating millions to this school since 1913. So, without any more interruptions, we proceed to the traditional Sorting Ceremony, like we have been doing every year since Hogwarts started nearly a thousand years ago."

The Sorting Hat was pulled out again, it sang its song, and the names of the new students were called out. Each one was nervous and anxious to see where they would be placed. McGonagall was calling out the roll, and started with, "Penelope Arius!" A blonde haired girl with curls hopped into the seat and placed the hat on her head. The hat quickly put her in Hufflepuff and then she sat at the table with her new House.

Next was a little boy named Nicholas Butler. He was quickly put into Ravenclaw, as was his twin sister Emily, who was called out next. Several other students were put into Ravenclaw, seven others were put into Hufflepuff, and the list progressed for nearly forty-five minutes until the last four were called out. "Meredith Fallowin...Gryffindor!" A platinum blonde girl with blue stripes in her hair jumped up and down until she proudly took her seat.

"They haven't called out Winnefred yet," muttered Ron. "I'm beginning to wonder if Uncle Patrick and Aunt Melissa decided to have her home schooled."

Ron was quickly proved wrong. His cousin was next on the list. "Winnefred Weasley...Gryffindor!" A tall redheaded girl did a little victory dance before taking her seat next to her friend with the blue-streaked blonde hair. She looked really happy, but then Harry noticed Winnefred and Meredith had their eyes closed and were crossing their fingers, hoping for someone to join them.

"Stephen Goldman!" shouted the McGonagall. Winnefred and Meredith stood up out of their seats, and still had their fingers crossed. Apparently, this was the third member of their little group of troublemaking friends that Ron had warned Harry about. "Gryffindor!" the Hat shouted. Steve Goldman rushed over to the Gryffindor table and took his seat in between Winnefred and Meredith. The three friends were happy to have made it to the same House...it probably made it more convenient to raise Hell later.

That left one more student to be called out. "Giselle Acheron!" She was such a tiny little girl, and extremely cute with her big viridian eyes and dainty smile. Her wavy, cedar-hued hair was bouncing lightly as she walked energetically up toward the Sorting Hat. She sat down in the chair and put the Hat on. "Oh, now this is difficult..." said the Hat. "What House am I supposed to put you in? You've got the traits of all four, and could excel so easily in any of them. I'm going to insist you take Hawkbane courses when you're older, but the only problem is that Hawkbane is just Advanced Placement...it's not a House yet. Do you have any preferences?"

"No," said Giselle. "Put me wherever you like. It makes no difference."

"I'm afraid to put you in Slytherin, because you've got so much power and such a wonderful mind, Giselle. I wouldn't want your wonderful personality to change over the years, but you could be wasted as a Gryffindor just as easily. Oh dear, this is quite a problem. Are you absolutely sure you don't have any preferences, Miss Acheson?"

"Just not Ravenclaw, okay? My big sister's in there," said Giselle. "Please don't put me in Ravenclaw. I don't want to be an airhead like Isis."

"You're destined to be a wonderful student, Giselle, no matter where I put you, so I'll have you talk to the four teachers in charge of the different Houses after the banquet, and let you make a choice. I wish you the best of luck, lass."

The teachers looked at the little girl with curiosity. It was really hard to find someone who shared all four traits of the Four Houses! Dumbledore got up and asked the Sorting Hat why it didn't just randomly choose a House. "I didn't want to make the poor kid miserable in a House she wouldn't like."

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "Well, now that the Sorting Ceremony's over, I wonder what happens next." He looked up at the teachers' table at the front of the Great Hall, and tried to find Professor Nezura. He finally saw her sitting in between Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. She was picking at her food, and passing a note to Professor Snape. Harry then saw the tiny teacher snicker and try to take a sip of her drink. Since she was laughing quietly, it accidentally came out of her nose and got all over her plate. Snape looked completely grossed out, but the other teachers found Nezura's incident to be pretty funny. Soon, almost everyone was laughing at her incident.

Dumbledore stood up again and said, "I assure all of you, we will be looking at which House to put Miss Giselle Acheron in after the ceremonies tonight are complete. Before we start on our new Hawkbane Ceremony, I would like to introduce our three new Professors. For Foreign Magic, we have Professor Adonis Ebonyste, returning after his five-year holiday to Miami, Florida. For our new Curses & Rootwork course, we have hired Professor Mortimer Skylarke, one of the best for that particular field. Perhaps some of you have read his magnificent books. For Defense Against the Dark Arts, we now have Professor Mitzi Nezura. Each teacher has prepared a speech and looks forward to meeting students taking their classes. We will start with Professor Ebonyste."

The teachers gave a round of applause as a fellow with neatly-combed black hair halfway down his back walked up to the front. He had long, pointy ears, and stood somewhere between six and seven feet tall. He was lean and gangly, and looked like an overgrown student. His eyes were large and a light cerulean, and he had a charming smile, although slightly crooked. He also wore on his ears a really interesting-looking pair of earrings that looked like dream catchers.

"Hello everyone," he started. "My name is Adonis Ebonyste, and I am going to be your Foreign Magic teacher again. I am sure it will be a pleasure teaching most of you, but every group has its buttmunch, I'm afraid. When I was in school here, I admit that it was I who annoyed my teachers and made the younger students cry...as well as being a nightmare to my upperclassmen. I was a bit of a rebel, and definitely a juvenile delinquent, as were my friends, but I assure you I've finally put my life back into place. I recognized a lot of last names when I looked at the list of students here. In most cases, I probably knew, maybe even went to school with, your parents. I will be trying my best to make Foreign Magic fun, but please understand you guys have got to learn in there too!"

Professor Ebonyste then said, "I know this isn't school related, but it's about my family history. I bet a lot of you are curious about why I have long, sexy ears." There was an awkward silence in the room. Ebonyste continued. "My dad was in the Ministry of Magic, and my mum was a fairy showgirl. They met at a strip club, went on a couple of dates, and I was the result. They married later." There was a lot of laughter in the room now. "I want to make friends with you, but understand this...I am nobody's doormat!" Ebonyste then walked over toward his seat, but he tripped on Snape's foot. "That _wasn't_ nice, Severus!"

Dumbledore got up again and Harry could see he was red in the cheeks from embarrassment. "Well, _that_ was Professor Ebonyste. Next is Professor Skylarke with Curses & Rootwork."

The teachers applauded again as a gaunt fellow walked up to the front. His hair was a bit long for a guy, and a rather nice shade of auburn. He was about six feet tall, and he had olive green eyes that looked like they had seen some terrible things come to pass. The left one continuously was twitching, but he was wearing glasses to cover that up. Skylarke also wore thick, brown leather over his entire body. Actually, most of his outfit was brown leather, and jade colored silk could be seen in some places; the only skin that could be seen on him was his face.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mortimer Skylarke, and I will be your Curses & Rootwork teacher. I have graduated at the top of my classes at the four wizard colleges I've attended, so I doubt too many of your professors have a résumé _that_ impressive. Stick with me, and you will be safe. I see several bright futures out in the crowd tonight, and I hope you will allow me to help guide you through a course you will probably need for a very long time. I want to see you excel, and I want to see radiant students apply for my class. I am not the type of teacher that will look at you as a child and think you incapable of many things."

There was a lot of cheer from the students after hearing Skylarke's statement. Being treated like a child stunk, and most wanted to be treated like adults.

"I am the type that will view you as a young adult, and will expect you to keep up with my teachings regardless. In my class, you will learn everything from how to make voodoo dolls, to antidotes for fatal curses that linger, and maybe, if you're pretty powerful and I can trust you enough, how to use curses that will torment you even after Death." Skylarke's eye continued to twitch. "I will close with these words of advice; things, and sometimes people, are not always what they appear or seem to be." He stood up, and gave a polite composer's bow before returning to his seat, but his face looked as if it had lost whatever color it had held a couple of minutes ago, before he had finished his speech. He didn't trip on Snape's foot, but it was still out there. "You might want to put your foot beneath the table, Severus," said Skylarke. "Mitzi might trip on it and break her _other_ leg." Skylarke then shouted, "Go do your speech, Mitzi! Everyone, Professor Nezura for Defense Against the Dark Arts!" There was a lot of applause.

Snape put his foot where Nezura couldn't trip on it as the little teacher walked to the front. Apparently, all Madame Pomfrey had to do to repair Nezura's leg was clean it and put a healing spell on it. Although her leg was repairing in the cast, she still had a series of nasty-looking cuts on her face, including a rather ugly gash on her brow.

"I regret to say I missed the very beginning of the banquet. I hope you will forgive me for being in the infirmary. Earlier today, I had been on the Hogwarts Express with you fine students, excited about my new position as your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I met a few of you, and I must say I am astonished at how alike some of you are to your parents, whether they are alive or dead. Seeing some of you, and getting to meet you, made me feel like I was a First Year again. The similarities between some of you and people I remember, fondly or not, is quite uncanny. One face that didn't ring any bells was that of Miss Hermione Granger, whom I had the pleasure to meet in Cabin 54. I took a look at her resume, and I must say that I am astonished to see so many accomplishments. I also met Ron Weasley, who bears a striking resemblance to his father Arthur Weasley, whom I have the pleasure of working with. I never met him when he was a student, but he does a good job at work, as far as I know."

Nezura stopped for a minute, and winked at Hermione and Ron. "You two seem like charming students. With Ron and Hermione, was Harry Potter. He reminds me of James so much, only he's a _lot_ friendlier. Harry, I don't mean to be badmouthing your father, but he was never really that nice to me until I had gotten my black belt in karate. The reason probably was because I was one of those students that everyone liked to pick on and upset. The only Marauder that I actually got along with was the late Remus Lupin."

Nezura stopped for a minute, and Harry could have sworn he saw a tear fall. Then, Nezura started again, "I also had the good fortune to meet the son of a good friend of mine. Rick Fallowin, you remind me of both Licinius _and_ Shelby Fallowin; believe me when I say that is a good thing. Your mother is a born leader, and your father is such a wonderful gentleman. I also met the infamous Draco Malfoy. I hate to say this, Draco, but you remind me more of someone else I met rather than your father. You see, I did go to University with Lucius, but I recall he made my life miserable. You seem a lot more considerate of others."

Harry looked to see what Malfoy's reaction to that statement would be. He saw that Malfoy had his face buried in his hands and what Harry could see of his cheeks had turned beet red from embarrassment. Nezura continued, "I see you trying to hide over there, but I want you to know your actions today were very chivalrous, and I have found few craftier than you. Keep up your good work, and don't change your fascinating personality."

Nezura stopped for a little breather, took a sip of water from her cup, and then added, "This brings me to the little accident that happened earlier today. I was on my way to the Ladies' Room when Draco told me someone had broken into Cabin 54 and was threatening some of the students. I rushed over there, terrified that I might be too late to do anything to help whoever-it-was in danger, to find a Death Eater about to attack Harry, Ron, Rick, and Hermione. I lunged at the criminal wizard and told Harry to get everyone out, which is what he did. For a long time, I suffered the horrid spells Necro--that was his name--placed on me, but I lingered with the hope that backup would come soon. I think a long period of time passed, and then Harry rushed in to rescue his owl. He offered to help me out, but I said I could handle it. Those teachers that know me from past experience know what a pride-driven individual I can be, so in a way my own nature was turning against me. The battle progressed, and glass shattered. Necro threw me against the walls of the cabin, and I cut the side of my face on the broken window. I was thrashed and beaten with no mercy until I felt like this would be the end of me. At least I would die an honorable death and be mentioned in the newspaper for once. Suddenly, I heard two voices come out of nowhere shout a disarming spell used in the practice duels taught here. Necro's wand flew up into the air and I caught it. My two saviors were none other than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. How they put their differences aside to help out someone they barely knew, and agreed to work together, I'll never know, but if it weren't for those two heroic souls, I would have died a slow and painful death. I then subdued Necro, and these young gentlemen helped keep an eye on my attacker until the Ministry of Magic came to take him to Azkaban to go and join his colleagues."

Nezura stopped to wipe a tear from her face. She was practically glowing. "I can't thank you two enough. You two are my current heroes and I owe you my life." After saying that, Professor Nezura scurried back to her seat and broke into tears. "I love you both and wish you the best in _everything_ you pursue!"

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall jumped up. "We will now proceed to the new Hawkbane Advanced Placement Ceremony. All students who received a letter from one of the teachers enrolled in the Hawkbane Society, please stand up and come forward. You will receive the supplies necessary, and a list of the AP classes you will be taking. Also, you will come up here to talk to our representative teacher for the Hawkbane program, since only one of them actually bothered to show up tonight. I am pleased to introduce all of you talented students to your future Advanced Alchemy teacher, Professor Icarus Parenein, author of All That Glitters Can Be Turned to Gold!"

A friendly-looking old man carrying a long cane came in. His hair was white and short, and his eyes were a wild hazel, hidden under rectangular glasses. He was so thin, he looked almost like a walking skeleton. He was dressed in robes that were a rather loud shade of acid green. On his way up, the teacher cast a really dirty look at Professor Ebonyste, but then gave a freakish grin when he saw all the students. He had a couple of teeth missing.

"I'm Professor Parenein, in case you didn't know already." He then raised an eyebrow and grinned again. "You look bright enough. Maybe some of you won't be stupid and fail my class, but I seriously hope you passed your Potions with good marks before you place yourself in Alchemy...I'm nowhere near being considered a pushover."

Parenein then looked in the crowd and shouted, "Will all the students who got their Recommendation Letters from me stand over here? I'll call out your name, you'll come up here to get your supplies, and then I'm supposed to tell you how proud I am that you were selected. I _really_ don't give a rat's ass, but I'm always being pushed to say asinine stuff like this."

Harry flinched when he saw the look this old fellow was giving Hermione. "We meet in person, Miss Granger! Yes, yes, I know your name, and I've seen your long list of recommendations from almost all of your teachers. Only one of them didn't send me a letter of persuasion, but I doubt he did for anyone."

Harry was absolutely disgusted with this dirty old man for checking his friend out. However, Hermione wasn't the only girl that had caught the elderly Professor's attention...practically all the pretty girls who had been sent Letters of Recommendation were being stalked by icky Parenein. Suddenly, the elder teacher turned to Harry. "You're familiar, too. Would you be so kind as to show me your Letter? Who recommended you for the Hawkbane Program?"

Harry showed Parenein the letter he had gotten from Professor Snitchgrass. "Oh, you got _Snitchgrass_ to back you up, do you? That's a rarity...she only looks at raw talent." Two seconds later, Harry was shaking an old, gnarled hand bent with severe arthritis. "Welcome to Hawkbane, Harry Potter! I insist you take my Alchemy I and II courses over the next two years." The old-timer patted Harry's shoulder and then whispered in his wavering voice, "Maybe you can show a needy old man where he can purchase a few nudie magazines? I know lads your age like 'em just as much as I do, so I was wondering if you knew any locations? Help the elderly if you can."

Harry was half-amused at the vulgar nature of this teacher, and couldn't help but think of Professor Parenein as a teenager trapped in a really old body. '_Maybe I can learn a lot from this dirty-minded rascal about Alchemy, and maybe Parenein knows a few tricks about wooing girls too.'_

Harry had overheard a Hufflepuff girl talking to one of her friends about how funny but attractive she found Professor Parenein to be. Maybe the old geezer was liked for a wonderful personality or inner beauty. Harry quickly paid his attention to what Parenein was doing. He heard the elderly teacher mutter something like "_garbarisus_," and then saw two girls' skirts float upward, revealing their undergarments. One was wearing a magenta thong

. "Isn't that a neat little trick, Potter? Good way to get a sneak peek at their cute little asses!" whispered Parenein. The old man then walked over to the other students, asking to see their letters. Despite how rude this man was, Harry couldn't help but feel that Professor Parenein would probably be one of his favorites.

After socializing with the students and wandering off topic, Parenein went back to his original goal of getting the AP Ceremony out of the way. "I'm going to start calling out names on my list now. The other Hawkbane teachers will probably be here shortly."

The old teacher turned toward his fellow employees and stuck out his red tongue. Harry watched as his teachers he had been having previously, as well as Nezura and the two other new professors, gave Professor Parenein a very hateful look. "There is not a particular order here. I'm going to call out my list, like I just said, and then I'll look to see if Professor Leir, Professor Snitchgrass, Professor Lewn, Professor Ahsimal, _or_ Professor Furrier is here to take responsibility for a change. If they don't show up, then I'll continue the list for them!"

Harry saw Snape give Parenein a look of pure hatred, and then saw Parenein return that lethal glance. _"Ahem!"_ coughed Parenein. "My recommended students that I decided to sponsor will now be called out. Ella Jorkins, Lisa Turpin, Marcus Cantarus, and Hermione Granger, please step forward and stand next to me." One by one, Ella, Lisa, Marcus, and Hermione walked up to the front, and received a book bound in a red silk cover. They then took their places next to Parenein and got a group picture taken for the Daily Prophet. "I hope it wasn't _too_ bad having your photo taken with me. I want you to know that I'm looking forward to being your patron Hawkbane."

Suddenly, another teacher rushed into the room. Her eyes were a bright cerulean, and she had long, curly gold-blonde hair. Her body was youthful, and had she not been dressed as an educator, everyone would have thought her to be a very attractive Seventh Year by her charming looks. She had a rather ample bust, supermodel-type build, and a really nice suntan…a female Lockhart, Harry guessed. Her nails were painted pearly pink, and she was wearing lots of makeup. She had a tattoo on her neck of a rose. The same rose was stitched onto her bubblegum pink robes. "I can't _believe_ I'm so late!" she squealed.

"I can; you're late for everything!" shouted Argus Filch, the school caretaker.

The pretty teacher raised her hand into a fist, and then made a really rude gesture at Filch by sticking her longest finger up. She then curled that finger back into the fist, took a deep breath, and laughed girlishly. Not only did this make her look and sound like a sweet youth, but it gave her a chance to show off her pearly white teeth and her alluring smile.

"Hello, students," she said in her honey-coated voice. "My name is Professor Claire Lewn, and I am the Advanced Clairvoyancy teacher for the Hawkbane Program. Like Icarus Parenein, I may sound familiar to some of you. Unlike Parenein, the recognition of my name did not come from books, but by dumb luck and good fortune. Unlike Gilderoy Lockhart, it was not by my good looks, hard as _that_ is to believe, that I became famous. My name is noted in history because I found something long thought to be a myth, and made my discovery open to the public by the time I was old enough to attend college. You see, I found the Fountain of Youth, and that's why I appear to be your age, maybe a little younger. In truth, I'll turn ninety-eight next week. Please consider signing up for my class...I promise you it's so much fun! Nobody's ever gotten hurt in there, either!"

"You're wandering off topic, Claire. Get on with the program," snapped Snape. "First Icarus, and now you, are wasting time. Some of us _want_ to get this out of the way!"

Lewn sweetly turned toward the students. "I'm _so_ glad I missed having Severus for a teacher. He's such a jerk. Anyway, will the students I wrote Recommendation Letters for come up here for your silk book and take a picture with me for the news?" She then pulled out her list and said in her gentle voice, "Ronald Weasley, Isis Acheron, Pansy Parkinson, and Joshua Goldman, please step forward and take your place next to me." Lewn smiled again as her sponsored students came up and stood next to her. She tapped Ron on the shoulder and said, "Tell your brother Bill I said _hello_, next time you see him, please." Her blonde hair got in her face, so she pulled it back with a baby pink ribbon. "I want all of you to know that I personally picked you out for this program, and that I am really looking forward to being your matron Hawkbane. I'm sure we'll all be great friends!"

As her blue silk books were presented to her recommended students, she looked around, wondering if the other Hawkbanes had gotten here yet. "Oh dear," she groaned. "It looks like only Parenein and I could make it tonight. I guess that means I've got to call out the names for the other four Hawk--"

"Claire, _wait_! I'm here!" shouted a deep, echoing voice. Harry looked around everywhere to see where the voice was coming from, but he couldn't see anybody. "I just finished up that meeting, so I'm sure the other three will be here soon. Let me make my little speech!" By this time, Harry had almost decided that the voice belonged to a ghost, until he realized why he hadn't seen this teacher earlier. The professor was a calico cat wearing glasses similar to Harry's, and a yellow scarf around his neck. As he saw the fluffy teacher, Harry couldn't help but think that a class taught by a cat would be weird, but amusing. "I have an excuse for being late, although I apologize for any inconveniences I may have caused. I had a lot of loose ends to tie up, and I even missed the banquet. That was a real disappointment, let me tell you! I love the smoked salmon that they serve only twice a year here, and I missed it because I had to make sure an order for my class came in."

The cat stopped to lick his paw, and then continued his speech, "I am not exactly a celebrity like Professor Lewn or Professor Parenein, but maybe some of you saw me in the paper recently as Teacher of the Year. I know it's not much of an award, but I'm proud that I was nominated. In the past, my class was for college students only, and for those that wanted guidance toward becoming Animagi. Now, if you sign up, that possibility will be open to you as well!"

"You've got a _lot_ of guts to say that to a bunch of Sixth Years, Skip!" shouted Ebonyste as he took another sip of his wine. He then continued his conversation with Hagrid about how to raise a dragon. "I really want one, but I know they're illegal. Have any idea where I can get one?"

"I see lots of potential in these youth!" said the cat. "Oh, I forgot to give you students my name, in case you want to sign up for my class. My name is Furrier, and I am the Animagery teacher for the Hawkbane program. I'll call out the names of the four students I have decided to sponsor, and then I will be greatly satisfied if they would be so kind as to come up here to receive their silk books and take a picture with yours truly for the paper. I must say that I was very impressed with the lists of accomplishments for these young adults, and that I am very much looking forward to being their feline Hawkbane." Furrier then put his paws on the list and said in his deep voice, "Richard Fallowin, Atticus Shadow IX, Morag MacDougal, and Celia Wells, please come up here and stand next to me...oh, and Celia? Would you please be so kind as to hold me gently in the picture? I want to be seen in the Daily Prophet as much as any of you."

A girl with pale skin and platinum blonde (so blonde it almost looked white) hair came up next to Professor Furrier. One of her eyes was blue, and the other was green, but both shined with the starry look of success and pride. After the picture was taken, Professor Furrier jumped up on each student, rubbed his body on their legs (after all, he _was_ a cat Animagus), and then presented all four of them with a saffron yellow silk-covered book, similar to Parenein's vermilion red ones and Lewn's cerulean blue ones, only this one had the feline's signature at the bottom in black ink.

"I will be checking up on you four to see you keep up with your work and enjoy the privileges given to the students of Hawkbanes!" The cat raised his fluffy arms up in the air, and jumped into his seat at the teachers' table. "I will now turn this ceremony over to the next Hawkbane who arrived late...Professor Wolfgang Leir!" With that, Furrier sat next to McGonagall, where he got his ears rubbed and was hand-fed the remains of the smoked salmon he had been afraid that he had missed. A purring sound could be heard over next to the Head of Gryffindor.

Another teacher Harry had never seen before came into the Great Hall. "I didn't realize it was this late, otherwise I wouldn't have spent so long reading." This one was a young fellow, not even six years older than Harry. He looked pretty cool with his short and spiky prematurely silver hair and bizarre golden eyes. He wasn't wearing robes, but baggy black cargo pants with a black shirt that had the Hawkbane insignia on it. He also was wearing a spiked dog collar around his neck, an earring that looked like a mace, and a small amount of black eyeliner. His skin was tan, his teeth were really white, straight, and healthy, and he had pretty muscular arms. Professor Leir was a very attractive young man, and he looked like he was in his early twenties. _He's a punk!_ Harry thought with pleasure.

"Sorry for the delay, students. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wolfgang Leir, but I prefer to be called 'Wolfe' by my friends. I am the new Manipulation teacher not only for the Hawkbane program, but for all you Hogwarts students. I graduated from Hogwarts five years ago, so maybe some of you recognize me as one of the Quidditch players for Ravenclaw. I was their Keeper and my name can be found written in brass in our very own trophy room. I then graduated from nearby Lazulien, University of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as second in my class. I read about the plans for the Hawkbane program, and my former headmaster, Dumbledore, came up and offered me a job as a teacher for a field that hasn't been taught in this school in a long time. I must admit the thought of teaching Manipulation sounded like it would be an interesting adventure, so I accepted the offer, and here I am. It feels so good to be back here, and I remember sitting at the Ravenclaw table when you fine students were sorted into your Houses four years ago. I was a Sixth Year, and all you Hawkbane students, except Fallowin, were Second Years when I graduated, but some of you look familiar. Would the four students of Recommendation that I am sponsoring come forward and get their picture taken with me?"

Leir then turned toward the other teachers for approval. He found it with some, and he was relieved to see none of them were glaring at him, as they had with Parenein. He was also satisfied to see nobody was rolling their eyes at him, as they had done with Lewn. However, it annoyed him to see some of the female teachers, and one of the male teachers, looking at him in a very uncomfortable way. He wondered if any of the students had this problem.

"I need Sally-Anne Perks, Quinn Moon, Samuel McCallisten, and Draco Malfoy to come up here with me." Once the students approached Professor Leir, he gave each of them a silver-hued silk book and got a group photo for the paper. "You have no idea how proud I am to be your guardian Hawkbane...I only hope I don't regret saying that later." Leir sighed. "One of the Requests for Recommendation came from a very unlikely source. Draco Malfoy would have missed this opportunity, had it not been for the determination of Professors Snape and Cyanis to get him here. I am glad that I have the honor of sponsoring such a magnificent student and making sure he sharpens his skills with his true talent and works up to his full potential. Malfoy, I am sure you will outmatch your father on the magnitude scale if you allow me to assist you toward greatness." Leir then turned to the others. "Can I expect _anything_ close to perfection from the rest of you?"

"Well, Wolfe's always been rather ambitious. He hasn't changed that much," Dumbledore whispered to Hagrid.

"He still looks like the same ol' dreamer to me," replied Hagrid. "I wonder if he's still goin' to come by and visit me like he did when he was a student. That really wasn't that long ago, was it?"

"That was four years ago. He hasn't had long to change his ways. Let's keep a close watch on Wolfe for his own good."

Leir introduced himself to everyone and answered as many questions as he could until yet another teacher came into the room late. This one was a woman of about sixty, and she had a look of strictness about her. She had her iron gray hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her pale, catlike aqua eyes were narrowed, looking accusingly at the students who were staring at her. Her olive skin was flawless, except for her aging wrinkles. Apparently, this lady had lived a harsh life and had survived through a lot of peril. She had an arm in a cast, and in her hand was a cedar wand with a silver tip. Her robes were white and had a pale gold floral design on them.

"Wolfe, I'm ready to speak. You may take your seat now."

Harry watched Leir shrug and smoothly sit down at the end of the table, next to Furrier. He then focused his attention toward this harsh-looking teacher. Her voice was strong and forceful, and she had a really bored look on her face. She yawned and then said in an odd accent, "You students vill 'ave to excuse me vor being tardy. I do not need to explain vi I vas late, and I vill only say it vas vor a good reason. Everyone 'eu knows me vell enough can back me up and say zat I am one of the most punctual members of za faculty. I am za fifth Hawkbane, and za Advanced Astrology teacher. For those taking my class, I seriously hope you got good marks in Divination vith Sibyll Trelawney. If you did poorly in there, I vill tell you now zat za chances that you fail my class are pretty high."

She gave a rather cold laugh and then said sharply, "My name is Professor Lucinda Snitchgrass. The student I vill be mentoring this year should step forward at this time vor a group photo. I vill now call out his name," she almost started, but she immediately cut off and looked around the room. "Damn! I dropped my reading glasses!"

Harry's heart was beating out of shock..._this was Professor Snitchgrass?_ The same Professor Snitchgrass that had given him the cage, the Soulcatcher, and the RedStar crystal ball for his birthday? He had never seen this teacher before in his life, and yet, she was going to be his sponsor for the Hawkbane program...how peculiar. He knew that his name would be the one called out

. "Vinally!" he heard Snitchgrass hiss, and then heard her mutter something as she put her glasses back on. "Vill my sponsored student please come an' join me? 'Arry Potter!" Harry walked over to the front and got his white silk covered book from Snitchgrass. She then said in her important-sounding voice, "You know, 'Arry, zat I've got high expectations vor 'eu especially. I am sure 'eu vill enjoy zis program, and I'm here to guide 'eu, since I am, after all, your supporting Hawkbanes."

She shook his hand and then continued, "I am looking forward to zis, and I hope you feel za same way. Although I may look like nothing more than a new face to you, I vant you to know I 'ave vatched every single Quidditch match you 'ave been in since 1991. Now, five years later, I'm going to ask you if you vould be interested in helping us start a new team for Hogwarts zat will travel abroad in matches. Of course, this vill be Hawkbane ve are representing, but it's either you or Draco Malfoy that ve vould like to be our team's first Seeker. Since school versus school tournaments are held in the summer, vould you like to spend your vacation time here with za new team? You'll be vith za best of Hogwarts, I assure you!"

Harry didn't know what to say to the teacher...becoming a Seeker for the Advanced Placement team (which would begin for the first time this year!) sounded like it would be a good experience, and he would get to travel around the wizarding world during the summer instead of sticking around with the Dursleys.

"I'll consider," was all he could say. Snitchgrass handed him his new book bound in pearly white silk. She clearly would be expecting great things from him this year. He got his picture taken with Professor Snitchgrass, and then took a seat between Ron and Rick at the new fifth table, labeled "Advanced Placement." He was shocked to discover Snitchgrass was sponsoring him, and only him. _Perhaps she showed a special interest in my abilities?_

Snitchgrass didn't go on to tell about her history like the other Hawkbanes had. She just answered some questions and kept saying she wanted to sit down because she was getting tired of standing. She took a seat next to Professor Trelawney and pulled out a crystal. Not once did she pry her eyes off it. At least, not until the sixth and final Hawkbane arrived into the Great Hall...this one had to be the infamous Necromancy teacher. Before the teacher walked into the room, Harry heard a voice say, "Could someone please be so kind as to dim the lights before I come in here? My eyes are a little sensitive, and I know Albus keeps it so bright in here..."

This was probably the most oddball teacher Harry had ever seen. He stood a bit over six feet, and was dressed in a tight black turtleneck, baggy khaki cargo pants with a large belt, and dragon-skin boots that came up to his knees. He had an emerald brooch that held his long, flowing black cape on, and he had a gold hoop earring in his left ear. He had thin-wire circular glasses that went from his eyebrows to the apples of his cheeks. They covered his long-lashed eyes, which were sparkling mauve, and seemed to say he was up to something. His teeth were straight, healthy, and pure white. So was his skin and his hair, which came down to his knees. His hands had lengthy, narrow fingers with really long and sharp fingernails that came out about half an inch. He had a tall and lean build to him, and he had a very antisocial look that told gossipy students to leave him alone. He looked like he meant business, but probably would not hurt anyone in any way, unless first provoked. He had a bit of muscle on him; it was just enough to be noticed, but not enough to the point of looking vulgar. Despite his bizarre appearance, this teacher had some sort of enigmatic beauty to him...almost exotic. He raised his left hand, and Harry could see a gothic-looking pewter ring with a giant obsidian sphere in the center.

"I want all of you here to know that I only have one reason for showing up at all tonight, and that is for the one student that I chose to assist. I must say that over the years, Cassandra Snape has become as close to a daughter as I will ever get, and that I wanted to sponsor her personally. It was obvious that she, Harry Potter, Atticus Shadow IX, and some of the others who were given this wonderful opportunity, would be making it to Hawkbane, but there was only a one-in-six chance that I would be her mentor unless I wrote her Letter of Recommendation, which is exactly what I did."

He stopped suddenly in his speech, and started to cough violently. However, he was polite and covered his mouth with both of his ghostly hands. The coughing continued for nearly two minutes and he about keeled over, but then the teacher got back up.

"My name is Darius Cyrus Ahsimal, and I am the Necromancy professor. I am older than you think I am, but it's not because of some stupid fountain. It's because I am different from all of you, but I will silence myself on that matter. I have taught at this school since it was founded, and for those of you that have heard my name before, I am sure you have heard it in infamy from the more recent articles in the Daily Prophet. I'm the same person that your Potions teacher is trying to blame for the death of Remus Lupin. If you read the paper, you'll know what I'm talking about. Since I hate having my picture taken, and so does Cassandra, we will refrain ourselves from a group photo for the paper. Nonetheless, I need the only student I will be mentoring to come up here and receive her book."

Cassandra rushed up there, gently took the black silk-covered book from Professor Ahsimal, wrapped her arms around his neck, and then left after she had kissed his cheek. "Why thank you for that, Cassandra," said Ahsimal. "I'm flattered."

He then raised his right arm. Harry could see another ring, only this one wasn't as gaudy...this one was a gold band with diamonds covering it, but it had a look of ornate elegance, just like its owner. "I congratulate all of you that made it to Advanced Placement, since I know this is an admirable accomplishment. Welcome to Hawkbane!" With those words, the Hawkbane teachers got up from the table, organized themselves into a small group, and then started to leave the Great Hall.

"Well," said Furrier. "We're looking forward to seeing the eighteen of you in all of our classes as well as the ones you would normally be taking!"

"That's right!" said Lewn. "You're all really cool, too. Don't you forget it!"

"Make us proud of you zis year!" said Snitchgrass. "Ve all expect your best."

"See you soon!" said Leir. "I suggest you get a good night's rest."

"I'll see all of you at nine o' clock in Turret Six!" said Parenein. "Have fun!"

Ahsimal had already left without saying anything else. Harry hadn't seen him leave, but how else could it be explained? Professor Ahsimal wasn't there.

After the long ceremonies were finally over, Harry couldn't stop talking about Hawkbanes, and neither could anyone else that had been Recommended. He was pleased to see that he had the same dormitory, and he was sharing with Ron. As he climbed the staircase, he was looking about everywhere, glad to be back, and ready for his newest adventures that he would surely face this year. However, he saw that something was out of place that had not been here before. There was a portrait of a Hogwarts professor lying in a coffin, and he was not moving in the piece. The only thing moving was the shower of wilted flowers that seemed to be cascading down everywhere lightly in a melancholy way. It also looked like it was snowing in the picture, and then Harry realized this wasn't a painting, but an actual photograph. He then looked to see there wasn't just _one_ professor on a coffin, but there were actually two, and the horrid part was Harry recognized the one on the right…_Lupin_. The other one was unfamiliar, but he looked like he had been a rather kind fellow. His hair was a dark mahogany color, and he had rather flawless skin with only a few wrinkles. He looked like he had probably been about thirty, maybe a bit older, when he had died. In the dead teacher's hands was a pan flute. Lupin carried an item too, only his was a bouquet of white roses. "Harry?" said a fragile voice. "What's wrong?"

Harry turned around to see an auburn-haired teacher dressed in worn, brown leather and jade green silk..._Skylarke_.

"Sad picture, isn't it?" he said in a rather dismal tone. "You're lucky you didn't get to see Remus's body, trust me. He was so mangled and disfigured, that it took us a long time to figure out who he was. This picture is dedicated to two teachers who were murdered in a similar way. The one on the right you know as Remus Lupin...friend of your father, and your favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher...but do you know who the one on the right is?"

"No," said Harry. The dead fellow next to Lupin looked long-forgotten and abandoned. Lupin had fresh flowers around his body, showing that he was remembered affectionately by people who missed him. All the wilted ones were beside this other man.

Skylarke heaved a melancholy sigh. "When I was a student here, this fellow was the Potions Master. His name was Sebastian Argentum, and he died a very miserable death similar to the one Lupin faced. A man obsessed with the Dark Arts who had joined with Voldemort used Argentum as a bloody sacrifice of some kind, to unleash a terror you could never imagine. In exchange for Sebastian Argentum's life, the murderer resurrected a monster known as a gorgonix and it resided in his body until his demise. It lies dormant until Voldemort wishes it to wreak havoc once more in another _shell_. It is one of his most ingenious weapons, I am afraid. Something tells me that another Death Eater is a teacher now, and has the same sleeping gorgonix inside him." Harry looked to see Professor Skylarke's eyes were misty with tears, and one of them was mildly twitching. "It is here...I know it! More innocent blood will be spilled before the years ends..."

"How do you know so much about this?" Harry asked curiously. He found it pretty odd that a teacher would know so much without first person experience on the matter. "Did you know the Death Eater personally? Or was it _you_?" He knew the last question was not one to ask Skylarke, and immediately the teacher gave him a really hurt look...as if he couldn't believe Harry would suspect him that much.

"It wasn't me, but I got the fellow's name when he attacked me. He told me everything about Argentum, but the murderer was murdered by a friend of mine."

Skylarke pulled out a picture and showed it to Harry. "Here I am with my friends from school. I'm your age in this photo." Harry looked to see a person he recognized as a younger Severus Snape posing jokingly next to a tall and lean boy with bright olive eyes and neatly combed auburn hair. There was also a gangly boy with short, spiky, raven hair and amber eyes, dressed in gothic attire. Professor Ahsimal was there too, and he looked the same. All of them were wearing pewter rings like the one Ahsimal had on his hand, with a large obsidian globe in the center. Harry recognized the coloring as that of Skylarke, but the auburn boy in the picture just _couldn't_ be the professor that stood before him. The one in the photo was charming and happy, and Skylarke had a much more melancholy appearance, much more grim, and much more miserable. The boy in the photo looked jovial and at peace with the world...the man in front of Harry, gazing at that picture of Sebastian Argentum with a grievous expression of sorrow and self-loathing hatred, didn't look happy at all. He looked**_damned_**.

"That is what I looked like before they got me and tried to make me their second sacrifice. I was selected because Voldemort wanted my entire family _gone_. We had powerful blood, but the rest of my family all were very treacherous people. With my death, a very powerful gorgonix could reside in one of these three." Skylarke stopped, and his voice started to sound choked with tears, "The man that killed Professor Argentum came out and told me straight to my face that he was the guilty party. He also gave me the nickname of a mass murderer who would attack Hogwarts..._Mortis_."

Skylarke sighed and wiped the tears from his face. "I beg you not to tell _anyone_ what you just heard or saw..._especially_ that you saw me cry. I'm one of the world's strongest wizards, and someone as tough as I should not go about sobbing, right? I have an image to keep up."

He sighed again and then told Harry, "Well, I'll see you in Curses & Rootwork, won't I? I apologize for putting on such a show. I should be more careful in the future..." With that, the teacher walked toward his quarters, with a piece of parchment in his trembling, gloved hands.

Harry looked at the picture of Lupin and Argentum and then tried to stop Skylarke. "Professor Skylarke! Wait!" He wanted to learn more from this troubled soul than what he had just heard. "I'd like to know more. Did you know my parents and their friends? Who did you know when you were a student like me? Does Argentum have any living relatives that know what exactly happened to him?"

Skylarke turned to face Harry, and put a pair of sunglasses over his bloodshot eyes. His face was sallow where the tears had stained it. "You'll have my class soon enough, and feel free to visit anytime, but I must warn you of one thing, Harry. Don't make my mistake; trust only those you _know_ you can depend on. I hope you neverend up like me."

With that, Skylarke disappeared into the shadows, and Harry didn't see him anymore, but he heard his voice echo, "I wish I could start over, but it's too late for me. Spare the innocent..."

He took another look at the picture and sighed. "Lupin..." he started, but got no further. He saw Neville heading up toward the dormitories, and Harry then decided it would be a good idea to retire for the night. After all, tomorrow, his classes would start up, and he would have to work out his schedule with the Hawkbanes, and decide if he would be taking all their courses. Already this was beginning to look like the weirdest year he would _ever_ have at Hogwarts. "Neville!" Harry shouted. "Wait up!"

"Were you just talking to Professor Skylarke, Harry? He looks like a total creep, doesn't he?" said Neville. "I bet he'll be real nasty, just like Snape. I don't think I'll be enjoying Curses & Rootwork. I want to overpower my enemies, but I'd rather not learn it at all than spend a day with Skylarke. You know, I'm looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts with that new Professor Nezura, though. She's cute as a button and really seems to know her stuff. She seems really nice, too."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Nezura's tough; we still might need the DA, but I doubt it."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Adonis Ebonyste and the Midas Touch

No disturbing dreams reached Harry that night, and breakfast was pretty nice. Hermione met up with her two friends as soon as she could.

"I _knew_ that some of these teachers were familiar. I've read about Lewn, and Parenein, in Hogwarts: A History ages ago, and I had always wanted to meet them in person. Now's my chance! Fancy that! I never dreamt that they became _teachers_. Did you know that Parenein is the world's best modern alchemist and that Lewn is _never_ going to grow old because she is now the Keeper of the Fountain of Youth? Although he said nothing about his accomplishments, Ahsimal is the best Necromancer in the world, and nobody _ever_ has outmatched his skill in that field up until recently, when Skylarke outdid him. Ahsimal's trying to be modest."

"What about Furrier, Snitchgrass, and Leir?" asked Ron. "Are they famous too?"

"Furrier is the first to teach a class in bestial form, and he has an IQ of 148. He's so clever and cute..." Hermione stopped and then laughed. "He was adorable, wasn't he? I never expected one of my teachers to be a cute and cuddly calico. His glasses and handkerchief were just _precious_, weren't they? I bet his class will be very appealing to those that want to become Animagi."

"Talking about Furrier, are you?" said a warm, soothing voice. "Professor Furrier is my mentoring Hawkbane. I take it you three have Hawkbanes too?"

Harry looked at this girl. One of her eyes was a lively green, and the other was a striking cerulean blue. Her skin was very pale and so was her hair, although she had a few freckles by her nose. She was about 5' 3" and she was rather pretty.

"Of course! Ron here has Lewn, and Hermione has Parenein for Hawkbanes. I'm Snitchgrass's only student of Recommendation." He then added. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Harry Potter. May I ask your name?"

"Celia Wells, student of Recommendation for Furrier, Dumbledore's granddaughter, and a member of the Ravenclaw house. I take it you and your friends are in Gryffindor?"

Harry nodded. "That's right," he said. "I've got Foreign Magic with Ebonyste right now. Have you got him too? I'm a tad curious as to where his classroom is."

Celia laughed. "Oh, Ebonyste? I went to his summer enrichment program with a few other Hawkbane-sponsored students. Maybe you know a couple of them? There is no possible way that you _can't_ love Ebonyste...he's really sweet and can come up with funny jokes that will make your sides burst from laughter in an instant. He respects his students and rarely gives homework."

"Well, Celia, where's his classroom?" asked Ron. "We don't want to be late on our first day, you know." He was afraid of getting too many tardies.

"Turret Three," said Celia. "Second classroom to the right. Can't miss it." She looked at her lavender ribbon watch and then sighed. "Well, I've got to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts for that Nezura woman, so I guess I'll see the three of you in Turret Six for Parenein next class! The eighteen students in the program have all their Hawkbane classes together, you know." With that, Celia rushed down the hall, her books in a bag floating behind her.

Harry pointed at the bag. "Well, that is one interesting item over there."

Ron nodded. "I agree; she's cute...and charming."

"Not Celia, Ron! I was talking about her bag!" Harry had never seen something like that before. It looked like an ordinary blue and bronze gymbag, but it was carrying about ten different books, six of which were heavy textbooks for the Hawkbane classes, and one was for Nezura. One of them was a comic book, another was a novel, and the tenth book was a journal of some kind.

"Come on, you two!" snapped Hermione. "I _don't_ want to be late!"

After the long journey down the hall, it didn't take Harry and his friends long to realize that the Gryffindors were paired up with the Slytherins for Foreign Magic, but the other two Houses were there as well. Professor Ebonyste's classroom was packed, and everyone was curious about this pointy-eared fellow who would be teaching them. Celia had said he was a laid-back person. Harry couldn't sit with Ron and Hermione, because the seats were assigned. He was sitting between Malfoy and a lean, but handsome, fellow with dark hair in a clubber's cut. Harry thought this guy looked a bit like a Caesar.

"Hi," said the lad. "My name is Marcus Cantarus, and I'm one of Parenein's sponsored students. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand so Harry could shake it.

"Nice to meet you, too," said Harry. "I'm Harry Potter." He waited for some sort of wild excitement to come from Marcus's face, and that is exactly what happened.

"Wow! I never thought I'd get a chance to meet you, and here I am, assigned a seat next to a celebrity. This really _is_ my lucky day! Hey, did you know that there's someone in here just as famous as you?" said Marcus.

Malfoy got a large smile on his face and said that he was flattered. "It's not you, Draco, no matter how cool you are. I'm talking about that crippled chap over there."

Marcus pointed a large finger at a Seventh Year with chestnut hair neatly combed into a ponytail reaching his shoulders and sad, violet (yes, violet!) eyes hidden underneath large sunglasses. Harry noticed this fellow looked lonely, sitting there in his wheelchair, looking at his Magics of the World textbook without anyone bothering to talk to him. However, several students were pointing fingers at him and whispering amongst themselves. Harry knew how that felt.

"You see, Harry," said Marcus in a whisper. "Even _Draco's_ afraid of that fellow over yonder. His name is Atticus Shadow IX, and his family bloodline traces back to Medusa, the snake-haired madam that could turn people to stone back in the days of Ancient Greece. Rumor has it that the Shadows possess that same power, and that is why they're always wearing those sunglasses, even when it's pitch black. I bet ol' Atticus there could turn you into a statue before you could say 'Quidditch' if he wanted to."

Draco sighed in apathy. "The Shadows are a very mysterious family, and I want to know what they're up to. My dad has to deal with them a lot. Just recently, Shadow's grandfather, Atticus Shadow VII, turned an Auror into a marble fountain. The last anyone saw of Maria Maderas, she was spewing water from her mouth in the Shadows' front yard. I bet even _you'd_ like that sort of power, Potter. Imagine...we're in the same classes with a direct descendant of Medusa! Keep your distance, though. I've heard Shadow has a rather nasty personality."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Although he and Malfoy were on the same side this year, he _still_ viewed Slytherins as having nasty personalities, and with the exceptions of Voldemort, he doubted he could detest anyone more than Draco or Snape.

"Well, I'm going over there to say hello." Marcus tried to hold him back, muttered something like 'your funeral,' and finally let the Gryffindor go. Harry walked over to the lad and said as friendly as he could, "hello."

"Oh, hi," said the boy. "My name is Atticus, and I'm a Gryffindor." He looked about and then sighed. "Apparently, my friends got their credit for Foreign Magic over the summer and don't have to take the course. I guess that makes me a loner right now."

He then looked up at Harry and smiled shyly. "But, I could always use a new friend. May I ask your name?"

"Harry Potter." He knew what was next; '_Atticus is going to gasp and do the whole 'I can't believe it!' thing everyone does.'_ However, the opposite happened; Atticus apparently just looked at Harry like he would any other student. '_Maybe he doesn't recognize me. How bizarre...'_

"Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Harry," said Atticus. Harry was a tad confused when Atticus didn't even _try_ to look for the scar. "Your name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't remember where." '_Just _**_who_**_ does this guy think he is? He doesn't recognize me!'_

"I survived a Death Curse from Voldemort fifteen years ago," said Harry. He was sure that would ring a bell to this Atticus Shadow IX, but, once again, he was wrong.

"Hey, cool," said Atticus. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters always left my family alone because he was scared of us. If he had looked at my dad or gramps in the eye, he'd be a rock right now. Come to think of it, if he looked _me_ in the eye, he'd be a rock!"

Harry's eyes were wide open. "Haven't you heard of me?" He just couldn't believe that Atticus had never heard of him until now. _How can this be happening?_ This was unreasonable...but apparently, he had never heard of the infamous Shadow family that everyone was absolutely terrified of. Due to that look of unfamiliarity, Atticus had the same look of sheer surprise and confusion on his face, although Harry couldn't see the lad's eyes through those heavy sunglasses he was wearing.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," said Atticus. "Well, I don't know you, and you don't know me...but everyone seems to know who we are. How uncanny." He shrugged and said, "We can still be friends, right?"

"Why not?" said Harry as he shook hands with Atticus. "Just don't insult my other friends, or my family, and we'll get along just fine."

"Who are your other friends?" asked Atticus. "Malfoy and Cantarus?" Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, and then told Atticus his best friends were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. "They're both Hawkbane students too, right? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Hermione one of Parenein's sponsored students, and Ron one of Lewn's? I know you're Snitchgrass's star, and I can tell you that my guardian Hawkbane is Furrier, if you didn't already know that. Unless they have a problem with me, I'll have no problems with them."

"Do you have anything against people who have Muggle parents?" asked Harry.

"I never even bother learning which friends of mine have pure blood and which ones don't. Does it really make any difference?" said Atticus.

"No, it doesn't," replied Harry. He was glad that this new friend of his saw a similar point of view and had nothing against his other friends. "What about unwealthy wizards? Do you have anything against them?"

"Just the way they try to dodge me, and give me those hateful glares," said Atticus. "We talk to whoever is kind enough to talk to us. We're not the vindictive monsters people make us out to be, and even kind actions cannot appease their hatred for us. Do you know what it is like to be talked about negatively wherever you go?"

Harry was about to reply, but then he realized the rest of the room, even Atticus, had gotten as quiet as a tomb. He could hear footsteps, and they were getting louder every second. Knowing that it had to be Ebonyste, Harry rushed to his seat between Draco and Marcus and pulled out Magics of the World. He tried his best to look like he was reading the first chapter (Egypt) as the door creaked open.

In front of Harry, and the rest of the class, was Professor Ebonyste, the Foreign Magic teacher. However, he didn't look quite as elegant as he had when he had given his speech at the Welcoming Feast. His hair wasn't combed, but messy and wavy. However, it was still halfway down his back. There were also a couple of pieces of food in it, and a leaf of some kind was sticking out of his bangs. He was wearing robes, white ones at that, but Harry couldn't help but laugh when he noticed that they were tie-dyed with green ink, showing off the Slytherin colors. Ebonyste was still wearing his dreamcatcher earrings, and he had a piece of unpolished pyrite dangling around his neck on a thin leather strap. He also had a pair of glasses with blue lenses in, as well as a lot of bracelets on his arms. He didn't look like the clean-cut teacher they had seen last night; Ebonyste looked like a hippie with long, pointy ears, but he also looked friendly.

"Hello everyone!" he piped happily. "My name is Professor Ebonyste, and I'll be your Foreign Magic teacher this year. I will be teaching you the basics in the different styles of magic found in our beautiful world, and we will dabble a bit in some of the ancient stuff, if Dumbledore allows us." Harry couldn't help but laugh at how Ebonyste pronounced Dumbledore's name. It sounded like he was saying _"Dumb-boulder"_ or something similar. "If anyone has any questions before we begin, now's the time to let them out!"

"I've got one!" said Ron. "Are we going to need the textbook?"

"I made sure the textbook was on your school supplies list, Weasley. What do you think?" said Ebonyste.

Everyone laughed...except Ron, whose cheeks were turning scarlet from embarrassment. "However, we will _not_ be going in order. Chapter One is Egypt, but that will be our third unit. We're starting first on Syria, and then Saudi Arabia, and so on and so forth."

The teacher stopped and took a sip of water. "If everything goes as planned, I will be taking the Seventh Years to the country of their choice at the end of the year. I might make an exception for the Hawkbane students and allow them to come too, if they have permission from a parent or guardian." Ebonyste looked around the room. "Any more questions?"

"I have one!" said Hermione. "What type of students do you like?"

"I like the ones that do their work and put a little effort into it. I like to see they're interested, but I seriously hope nobody becomes obsessed with Foreign Magic, like me. This is merely a course that lets you look at the different types of magic found in our world. For example, did you know that the first Dark Arts originated in Scandinavia?"

Draco's eyes lit up with excitement when he heard the words "Dark Arts" mentioned by Ebonyste. The teacher continued. "As I was saying, this is not going to be a strict focus on one culture. We will be moving pretty swiftly and lightly. Just remember the key points for the Final Exam at the end o' the year, okay? If you don't pass, I'll see you again in here next year."

Ebonyste raised a finger in the air and said in a lighthearted voice. "Here are my words of wisdom. Do as I say, not as I do. I am more of a horrid warning than a fit example of a good wizard, and I admit that I do not have a flawless past...but enough of that! Let's have some fun in here, shall we? Is there anything else you want to know before we start in our lesson on Syrian magic?"

"I've got a question," shouted Draco, "and it isn't a stupid one!"

"Well, out with it! What do you want to know, Malfoy?" said Ebonyste.

"How much of the Dark Arts will we be taught in here?" Harry looked in Draco's silver eyes and saw a wild desire to do mischief. It was clear that the Slytherin really wanted to know how he could best wreak havoc and harm others. He wanted real power.

"Not a lot," said Ebonyste. "But teaching a little bit of the Dark Arts to Sixth Years wouldn't offend anyone except Professors Snape and Nezura..._especially_ Nezura. Anything _else_?"

"I've got something I want to know!" said Marcus.

"Is it _stupid_ or is it serious?" asked Ebonyste, drumming his fists on his desktop.

"Well, it's rather silly when you think about it, but there is one thing I'm curious about..." Marcus paused, and raised a dark eyebrow. "What's in your hair?"

"Good question!" cheered Ebonyste as he clapped and rubbed his tan hands together. "I'm not quite sure myself...whatever was in the dumpster.

"

"What were you doing in the _dumpster_!" asked Hermione in shock.

"_Another_ good question! What bright students! I'll be happy to answer this, if one of you would be so kind as to contact Dumb-Boulder about this little misadventure I had this morning at breakfast. Apparently, Snape and Skylarke thought it would be funny to throw me into the garbage, because they both felt I would be with my mother's type of people."

There was a silence, until Atticus and Marcus laughed at Ebonyste's joke. "Don't the rest of you nincompoops get it? It was a freakin' joke!" Then the whole class laughed. "SHUT UP!" Ebonyste shouted. He then pointed a finger (with what looked like a piece of old bacon dangling off of it) at Draco and said, "Hey, Malfoy! Go tell Dumb-Boulder about what the Head of your House did to me at breakfast! It was really mean of Snape to do that…I smell like _him_ now."

The class looked a little afraid of Ebonyste, so he calmed down a bit. "Shall we begin?" he said nicely as he brushed a piece of moldy cheese out of his hair. "Enough about me...what about you, my students? I'd like to get to know some of you better." Ebonyste looked about the room and then pointed a finger at a student. "You! Give me your name and a fact I can remember you by."

The handsome Slytherin Harry had met earlier stood up. "My name is Marcus Cantarus, and my father was Julius Cantarus, the famous Slayer."

"Very good!" said Ebonyste. "I know Julius, and he's been a good friend of mine for a _very _long time; we used to slay vampires together. He was a Hufflepuff; aren't you a Slytherin?"

"That's correct, Professor," said Marcus.

"Why the Hell did they put you in there?" asked Ebonyste. His cerulean eyes were fiery. Harry couldn't figure out what was going on in them. They were lively and ferocious, almost like a predator's would be after cornering its prey where there was no escape.

"I was put in because I'm interested in the Dark Arts and--"

"DAMN YOU! THAT IS AN UNHEALTHY OBSESSION, CANTARUS! GET RID OF IT THIS INSTANT!" snapped Ebonyste. His eyes were blazing now, and his kind face had turned rather monstrous and the light flickered strangely. The handsome teacher seemed to grow to be about seven feet tall and loomed over all the students. He didn't look friendly or happy. He looked extremely angry and dangerous. Suddenly, the light returned to normal and Ebonyste didn't look intimidating anymore, nor did he look furious. He looked like his old lovable self again. "Sorry, did I say anything weird or unusual?" His long pointy ears jerked and twitched a bit.

The lesson was rather brief, since it was merely introduction and silly questions. Harry's verdict on Professor Ebonyste was that he was a friendly fellow who would do almost anything to be popular with his students, although he kept his basic rules strong. "Well, that was interesting." said Harry. "I hope he always gets sidetracked like this so we don't have to do any hard lessons."

"Easy for _you_ to say, Potter," said Marcus. He looked pretty shaken from what the teacher had howled at him. "I want to drop Foreign Magic right now. Ebonyste's out to get me, I just know it." The handsome boy looked absolutely terrified as he turned to Malfoy. "Draco, let's find Rick and head off to Alchemy with Parenein. I bet he's a lot better than that pointy-eared nightmare."

"Oh, can it, will you, Marcus? You're whining like a Mudblood," snapped Malfoy. "You don't want Rick seeing you in distress over a teacher that's half fairy, do you?"

"He's half..._what!_" exclaimed Harry. This was a shock. "Ebonyste is half _fairy_?"

"Weren't you listening at the Welcoming Feast yesterday, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "Ebonyste's mum was a fairy stripper and that's why his ears are long like that." He laughed. "Well, I'm looking forward to taking Alchemy next, since that's the first Hawkbane class I've got. I'm curious to see what's so different."

"Same here," said Marcus. "I heard Parenein's made aluminum turn to gold."

"Any amateur Alchemist can do _that_, Cantarus!" said Ron, who was walking beside Hermione and Harry. "It's not a big deal."

"Oh, it's not, is it?" said Marcus, raising a dark eyebrow in curiosity. He didn't look mean when he did it, just slightly amused. "Well, here's a soda can. If it's no big deal, and any amateur Alchemist can do it, just turn this piece of aluminum to gold."

"I bet Marcus will even let you keep it, Weasley. We all know you could use it," said Malfoy. His silver eyes were glittering with malice. "Go on, we're waiting."

Ron tried and tried, but he couldn't make the soda can do anything. Harry joined in, and still nothing happened. Hermione tried as well, but nothing was happening. Malfoy found this very funny and started to laugh. "How come it's still aluminum? I thought you said turning this thing into gold was going to be easy."

"Oh, if you're so bright," growled Harry, "how about you show us how it's done?" He knew Malfoy was on his side this year for only one reason, but he also knew that no signs of this would be presented out in public. _What would people say? _Therefore, Malfoy would still annoy him out in the open and try to rile him up as best he could.

"Very well, Potter," said Malfoy, looking confident. He uttered a spell, but nothing happened, except the metal turned green and the impact knocked Malfoy and Marcus into the wall. "Maybe this is harder than it looks..."

"Nonsense," said Marcus. "Watch this." With that, Marcus pulled a vial of a red liquid out and put two drops onto the can. It turned into pure gold instantly. Marcus picked it up with a satisfied look on his face. "It really is simple if you get good marks in Potions class and pay very close attention." Hermione mumbled that she paid close attention too, but Marcus took no notice of that. "My Hawkbane is the Alchemy teacher and expects me to excel especially in that subject. I dare say I don't want to let Professor Parenein down."

"What's that nasty looking stuff in the vial, Cantarus?" asked Ron.

Marcus smiled, showing off his healthy teeth. "Oh, it's nothing except three drops of basilisk blood and crushed rosehips. It's the easiest way to do this little trick." He held up the can. "Does anyone want this? I need to find something else to practice on before we reach Turret Six, otherwise I won't be confident enough that I know how to do this."

"Give me a break..." muttered Draco. "This is _your_ specialty, Marcus." With that, the two Slytherins left to head down the hall by themselves. Marcus wouldn't have minded walking with the three Gryffindors to Alchemy, but Draco would rather walk to his first Hawkbane course with two other Slytherins only. Harry watched for a while until he saw Rick Fallowin pop out of Charms class to accompany Marcus and Draco on their way to Turret Six. Undoubtedly, Rick was the youngest Hawkbane student and the only one that was not a Sixth Year as far as Harry knew. He was also, like Marcus, a rather eccentric Slytherin, seeing as he was polite to everyone, even Muggle-born students, and never tried to be nasty to others. "About time you got here, Rick. Where were you?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued on their way, but then heard a voice say, "Say, Harry, would it be too much trouble if my friends and I walk to Alchemy with you three?" Harry turned around to see Atticus sitting in his wheelchair. With him was a pretty girl Harry recognized immediately as Celia Wells from Ravenclaw. There was also a muscular boy next to Celia, with blonde highlights in his chestnut brown hair, and rather calm-looking hazel eyes. Harry thought he looked like a surfer. He introduced himself as Josh Goldman, a Seventh Year from Hufflepuff.

"Well, nice to meet you, Josh," said Hermione. "Isn't Professor Lewn your Hawkbane?" When Josh nodded, Hermione exclaimed, "Ron, you and Josh have something in common!"

Josh seemed friendly enough, and everyone already knew how sweet Celia was, so now Harry decided to introduce Ron and Hermione to Atticus. "Atticus, these are my two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Guys, this is my new friend, Atticus Shadow."

"Atticus Shadow the _Ninth_!" said Ron. He looked absolutely frightened.

"Er...yeah, that's me," said Atticus. He was just as calm about this as Harry was when someone got all excited about his name. Because of this, Harry found this answer really funny, and he knew all too well how Atticus felt when Ron gasped in surprise. "I hope you all don't mind us tagging along."

"Not at all!" said Harry. He turned to see the reactions of his friends, and he was a bit shocked to see Ron had turned about as white as Celia and had a look of sheer terror on his face. Apparently, he was scared of Atticus and wanted nothing to do with the lad. "Ron, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost," said Ron, stuttering, "just a _Shadow_. Harry, do you _know_ about the Shadows? They can turn you into stone and make your dreams turn into nightmares."

"I only do that when I have no other choice," said Atticus. "Unless you torment me, then I promise you that you're quite safe from my wrath." He looked to the left, and then to the right. "Celia, we're going to Turret Six, right?"

"Yup," said Celia. She had all her books in her flying bag, and Harry noticed Josh and Atticus both had bags that showed their House colors. Josh had a yellow and black one for Hufflepuff, and Atticus had a red and gold one for Gryffindor. "Well, let's start heading in that direction. I don't want old Parenein giving us any trouble on our first day in his class." Celia then gave a warm smile and said, "I think a group of six is a lot less likely to get in trouble than a group of three, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Ron. His eyes were slightly glazed over and his cheeks were turning a bit pink as he watched Celia. He whispered to Harry, "She's cute, isn't she?"

Harry had to agree with Ron; Celia Wells was _gorgeous_. Her bright eyes were very alluring, although they were different colors, and she had one of the prettiest smiles Harry had ever seen. It looked a lot like Professor Nezura's, only Celia's seemed to glow a little and she was about nine inches taller than the petite little teacher. Today, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a bronze colored ribbon and she was wearing a little makeup. In Harry's opinion, Celia didn't need it; she was pretty enough without it.

In the hall, the six students didn't run into any teachers except McGonagall and Hagrid. McGonagall bothered no one, and Hagrid waved to Harry. "Harry! Ron! Hermione! We're doin' a lesson with phoenixes t'morrow. Dumbledore said I could borrow Fawkes fer the class! Ye're comin' aren't ye?"

"Sure we are, Hagrid," said Harry. He was glad to see that Care of Magical Creatures would not have something deadly this year, and phoenixes were one of Harry's favorite creatures. This was going to be pretty good.

The long walk to Turret Six was rather nice, and it was pretty fun getting to know these other three Hawkbane students better. It turned out that Celia was Dumbledore's granddaughter and she had a knack for inventing things, like the flying bag. She laughed when Harry said he felt that was an ingenious design. She then said she was working on a pen and notebook that would take the notes for you. Josh told everyone that he liked to surf and visit his home in Sydney, Australia during the summer. He then invited everyone to come and pay him a visit there sometime. Atticus turned out not to be the monster Ron had viewed him to be...he was a sweet and sensitive fan of Shakespearean poetry and had to be very angry at someone to even _consider_ fighting back. After talking to Atticus for a few minutes, everyone viewed him to be a noble chap who just wanted to make some new friends.

Finally, after the long walk, Harry and his friends made it to their Alchemy class. The rambunctious old foagie who taught the class, Icarus Parenein, loomed over everyone and muttered something softly under his breath. He was dressed in a pewter-hued robe with a rusty orange tie. Harry examined the room as best he could in the dim orange light. There was a desk in the front with a sphinx carved on it, and a bust of a young wizard was on the counter, as was a mirror like the one Harry had seen Cassandra Snape pick up in Nezura's Curiosity a while back. There was a large pile of magazines of some sort on the desk, and it took Harry a few seconds to realize they were _Playboys_ and other nudie magazines, collected over the years. Apparently, Professor Parenein had a pretty nice stash to keep himself entertained.

There was a circular ceiling with rusty orange stained glass and heavy frames, with a rusty orange tourmaline chandelier dangling down. The walls were pewter gray and had lattice carvings everywhere, pieces of rusty orange tourmaline sparking in places where they were cleverly inserted. Thick, rusty orange curtains dangled over the windows, which were also rusty orange stained glass. Although it was only nine in the morning, it looked like sunset in the classroom, due to the eerie effect of the drapes. Bizarre items, Harry couldn't figure out what they were used for, and ancient, decaying books written by Paracelsus, Albertus Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa, Nicholas Flamel, and other Alchemists were lined up in exquisitely crafted bookcases. There were no desks, but plenty of luxurious cushions on the floor. There were rusty orange clipboards next to each cushion, in case anyone wanted to take notes. Right behind the desk was a gigantic portrait of the same good-looking young wizard that was the bust on Professor Parenein's desk, and it cast a trickster's smile at the students as they took their seats on the floor, which was a neatly crafted mosaic of a dragon. Harry took a seat between Ron and a boy he didn't know.

"Hi! You're Harry Potter, right?" said the boy. He had short, sandy hair and a round face, with a couple of brown eyes looking at Harry with curiosity.

"Yeah, that's me," said Harry, trying to play it cool like he had just seen Atticus do earlier that day in Foreign Magic.

"I know you're in the Hawkbane program with me," said the boy. "My name's Quinn Moon, and I'm a Ravenclaw. I'm a fan of yours, and I was thrilled to learn that we'll be having a lot of the same courses." Quinn then turned to Ron and said, "Are you Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend and the Gryffindor Team's Keeper?"

"Yes," said Ron. "Nice to meet you, Quinn."

Quinn seemed thrilled to be sitting next to his idol, but Harry found him to be a tad on the annoying side. Now he knew how Krum felt two years ago with all those girls tagging along after him. Quinn's was just as bad. "Could I get your autograph?"

"Moon, have you no pride?" snapped another voice. "Potter's _not_ a hero."

Harry turned to see Draco, Rick, and Marcus were behind him. Marcus and Rick waved, but Draco's face was curled up in a scowl. "Can't even go to a Hawkbane class without someone fawning all over you, can you Potter? I bet you _love_ the attention!"

"Class!" said Parenein with his rough voice. "Welcome to your first day in Alchemy!" Harry looked up to see Professor Parenein, his pewter robes flowing behind his emaciated body. He appeared to be scrawnier than he had been yesterday, if that was even possible. His skin was so sunken in, that he looked like a skeleton with pale silver hair and wandering hazel eyes. Those eyes seemed to be the only thing that was young about him.

"I would like to take this day to get to know all of you better, if that isn't too much trouble." He pulled out a long wand with a couple of amulets dangling from its end and jumped on top of his desk. It was surprising seeing this shrunken old man moving about like a youth. Harry couldn't help but feel that Parenein was still a Seventh Year, maybe even a Sixth Year, in an elderly body, older than even Dumbledore's. Parenein dangled his wand a bit and one of the two amulets started to glow.

"In case you don't remember me, my name is Icarus Parenein and I gave the Red Books out to Hermione Granger, Ella Jorkins, Lisa Turpin, and Marcus Cantarus, since I am their Hawkbane. Those four are required to meet with me at a given time each Saturday. I am one of the most advanced contemporary Alchemists you'll ever meet, but I get the feeling that Cantarus will be taking my place sometime soon, seeing as I'm getting old. I chose him because he's got the gift."

Harry looked to see Marcus's cheeks were turning beet red from flattered embarrassment. "Cantarus here has the Midas Touch!" Parenein pointed a gnarled finger at Marcus, who had buried his red face in his hands.

Ron turned toward the embarrassed Slytherin and looked at him with shock. "No way!" Harry was very curious..._is Parenein referring to the Midas Touch mentioned in Greek Mythology or something different?_ He asked Ron. "Well, it's almost the same, only the Midas Touch, I mean the real one, is not where _everything_ you touch turns to gold. Only the stuff you want to turn to gold actually does, and it's also a slang term for someone who's very skilled in Alchemy or possesses a talent for learning Alchemic techniques easily."

"So which applies to Marcus?"

"Probably all of it," said Ron. "We both saw what he did to the soda can."

"Does anyone have any questions for me?" Harry heard Parenein say. He looked to see the old man was fidgeting in his seat, looking miserably at the bust on his desk. He then saw Parenein look into that mirror and his expression turned twice as gloomy.

"I was wondering, Professor," said Rick. Harry could see the gangly Fourth Year squirming nervously on his cushion. Whatever he was about to ask Parenein, Harry could tell it was really troubling poor Rick.

"Yes, Fallowin?" said the old teacher, still gazing drearily into the spiky mirror.

"Have you ever made a Philosopher's Stone?" said Rick. His voice was shaky and fast, and Harry could tell that the frightened lad wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them.

"I know how to do it," said Parenein, still blankly staring into the mirror, "I just never found an opportunity to make one. Maybe this year or next I'll give it a shot..."

Harry looked around the room, trying to see who all he could recognize. Well, for starters, Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy were in there with him. Rick, Marcus, Quinn, Atticus, Celia, and Josh were too. He looked into the shadowy corner at the far left, the one place the orange light wasn't casting its faithful glow, and saw a girl with black hair, staring at the teacher with her cold, dark eyes. Harry recognized Cassandra immediately; she was sitting by herself, perniciously glaring at Parenein with a fiery loathing for the old man. Her mouth was muttering something while she was pulling out her mahogany wand gently at the same time, trying her best not to be noticed. Harry couldn't figure out what she was doing, but he remembered she was in Advanced Placement as well, and so decided not to let her bother him. However, just looking at her gave him the shivers. She wasn't exactly _ugly_, but there was something dark and ominous about her, as if she would kill you if you went up and said a friendly 'hello' to her. That look of forlorn misery just ate at him. He was sure that Cassandra was an antisocial person, but he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her, sitting there by herself. Harry was getting depressed by just watching her.

"Will we be doing something in here tomorrow?" asked another student. This one had her curly blonde hair up into pigtails and she was a little chubby, but she was nothing compared to Dudley. Her navy blue eyes looked at Professor Parenein with a look of interest. She seemed to be another that liked the prospect of learning Alchemy…or something else.

"Why, yes, Miss Jorkins, we will start tomorrow," said Parenein coldly. His hazel eyes were still hypnotically looking at that mirror with a half-crazed obsession.

'_Jorkins?'_ thought Harry. Could this girl be related to Bertha Jorkins? He decided to ask her. "Are you related to Bertha Jorkins, by any chance?"

"Why, yes, I am!" said the blonde girl. "My name is Ella Jorkins, and I'm a Hufflepuff. My Auntie Bertha died a couple of years ago, in case you didn't know already." After that, she went back to talking to her friends about boys, makeup, and parties.

Harry and the others learned a lot about Professor Parenein's history in the time frame of the class. It turned out that Parenein was a famous Alchemist and had started the practice while he had still been a student at Hogwarts. As a young man, he had gone on a lot of adventures with several female friends, and had discovered the whereabouts of the Stream of Life. He had taken a sip, but the stream did not offer immortality...just a long life with unbroken dreams. In other words, Parenein's personality never aged, although his body did. He told everyone, "that rapscallion in the portrait's me sixty-four years ago, but I assure you that I'm still as alive as I was then!" Parenein had a long speech about his misfortunes with engagements, and how he always tried to be a ladies' man. "I like women, need I say more?" Harry saw Cassandra gag as the old teacher looked around the room and said, "There are some real beauties in here, let me tell you!"

"Well, that was cool," said Ron. "Parenein seems pretty neat, doesn't he?"

"Sure does!" said Harry. "I can't wait until our next class with him! He seems like the type that is just overflowing with stuff we want to know about."

"He can offer us a way to live forever; how neat is that?" said Hermione.

"Watching everyone die around you while you never change is _neat?_ I never thought of it in that context before, and I am most certainly _not _going to start any time soon," said a venomous voice. Harry turned to see Cassandra passed them by with a very agonized expression on her bloodless face. She said nothing else as she rushed ahead of them toward their next class...

Clairvoyancy with Professor Lewn.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

The Aerie

A couple of days passed, and Harry got to know some of his new teachers a bit better. Some of them were really cool, some were strict, and others were just pure pains.

Professor Nezura was one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers Harry had ever had. She would dive in on a lesson, make sure everyone fully understood it, and then would move on to something even more challenging. She would get people to volunteer regularly, and would even let well-prepared students teach the class sometimes...under her supervision, of course! She may have been small compared to everyone, being four and a half feet tall, but she was most certainly not a pushover. She could probably subdue anyone in the class quickly, since she had a black belt in karate...and had mastered six other Martial Arts. Besides that, she was an active Auror. However, she had the tendency to go off topic.

Professor Parenein was a dirty old rascal that kept pornographic material hidden in his desk, and Playboys on the counter. Although Harry had to admit he found Parenein to have a good sense of humor and always knew how to cheer him up, he was a bit creeped out by the way Parenein would flirt with some of the girl students. The usual targets were Lisa Turpin, Celia, and Hermione. Hermione found this attention disgusting, and so did Lisa, but Celia found it entertaining and really funny. She knew Parenein liked her, but she also knew the old fellow wouldn't do anything to her that would get him sacked. Parenein liked his job too much to lose it. However, sometimes Parenein seemed a bit too busy looking into his mirror to teach class and would just write notes on the blackboard for everyone to copy.

Professor Lewn was seductive, and very smart, but Harry never would have known that, seeing as she had acted like a complete airhead ever since Day One. When she was showing the class the technique she liked to use the best, the Lazurren technique, she stopped in the middle of it to complain about a broken nail or something just as silly. Harry also found it rather entertaining to watch Professor Lewn pick up a pencil. She had a good body and liked to show it off with short skirts and low cut tops. Every time Lewn would bend down, all the boys could get a "sneak peek," as Parenein would call it. None of the male students had anything to complain about, and Ron looked forward to Saturdays, when he would have to meet up with his Hawkbane privately.

Harry had also heard Draco mention a Slytherin teacher named Cyanis a couple of times, so he asked Hagrid who Professor Cyanis was, and what he taught on his next visit. "Cyanis, eh? Ye' sure you wan' to know abou' Cyanis? He ain't a good wizard."

"I'm sure, Hagrid. What does he teach?" asked Harry. The fact that Malfoy knew something he didn't vexed him so badly that he couldn't stand it. Ron and Hermione seemed curious too, seeing as they didn't know anything about Cyanis either.

"His name's Cain Cyanis, an' 'e teaches Hypnotism," said Hagrid, "an' he uses his talent for all the wrong reasons. He can hypnotize even the strongest willed people."

"No wonder Malfoy got a letter of Recommendation from this guy," muttered Ron. "He's mean and manipulative, just like him."

"Thank you for telling us, Hagrid," said Hermione. "Well, Harry, I think we've got to meet Josh and Celia in the library for that project Lewn's got us grouped together on."

She was referring to the material possession project Professor Lewn had assigned the day before. Since it was for Clairvoyancy, each group had an item of the Professor's with them, and, using what techniques they pick up through their research, were supposed to figure out the past of the object and how it would affect them in the future.

"Lewn really wasn't kidding when she said Divination would come in handy for her class and Snitchgrass's." Snitchgrass taught a form of Divination in her class, which focused entirely on Astrology. Harry realized that what he had learned from Trelawney and Snape especially had been mere stepping stones for these difficult courses he was now taking.

Harry was on his way to the library with Hermione and Ron to meet up with Celia and Josh, but he then saw something catch his interest, and therefore, curiosity conquered logic. He wanted to see who Malfoy and Rick were talking to. The two Slytherins were conversing with a rather dark-looking man with a cataract in his right eye. Except for his pure white eye, the teacher, if he was a teacher, was a rather well-preserved and good-looking fellow dressed all in dark red. His hair was iron gray and in a clubber's cut like Marcus Cantarus's. He had a rather muscular build to him and he had on his left arm...the Dark Mark. He had a coin Harry didn't recognize dangling from his neck. Harry looked very closely and noticed not only was the man's good eye blood red, but his teeth were extremely sharp. He listened closely to hear what Malfoy was saying. "Cain, I'm so glad we bumped into each other. How are you?"

'_So, this is Cyanis'_...thought Harry. '_What now? What does Cyanis have to do with Malfoy?'_ "Just fine, thank you. How are your courses coming along, Draco? Are you helping Cantarus and Fallowin out with the situation we're being presented with?"

"He sure is!" Harry heard Rick say. He looked to see the scrawny boy was paper white in the face. Apparently, Rick didn't like Cyanis too much, unlike Malfoy. "Draco, I'm heading to the library with Marcus, Pansy, and Sam. Will we be seeing you there any time soon?"

"No," said Malfoy. "Rick, go on without me. You can tell me what I missed when we're at dinner, okay?" Rick nodded and rushed off. Harry recognized the look on the Fourth Year's face as terror and fear. "Sorry about Rick, Professor. I think he's still a little scared of you."

Draco, you know I don't mind you calling me 'Professor,' but I prefer to be called 'Cain,' seeing as it _is_ my first name," said Cyanis. The dreadful teacher pulled something out of his pocket and said, "Here. I expect you need this for dinner sometime in the near future. Just make sure Skylarke finds it. I think he's up to something."

"You don't want him getting in the way, right?" Malfoy sounded quite disappointed.

"That freak show in leather will undo everything we've tried to do for nearly fifteen years, so we should stop him! Maybe Potter and his friends will help you out, once you explain--make sure you spare them a few details--I bet they'd be glad to join in on the _fun_," Harry flinched as he heard Cyanis mention his name. For the first time in a while, his scar burned and it didn't stop.

"Once I tell them what I'm trying to do, I'm sure they'll take my side over Skylarke's," said Malfoy. He then laughed with delight as Cyanis handed over a red glass bottle with a pearl handled dropper. "What is this stuff?"

"Splipberry nectar and a couple of secret ingredients combined to make a tonic that will comply with our goal, simply put. I can't tell you any more than that right now, because I think someone's listening in on us. You just take that and make sure Skylarke doesn't become aware of what we're up to. You might want to hide that from Ahsimal too...one of the ingredients in that mixture is pure human blood."

Harry gagged after he heard what Cyanis said, but then he heard Malfoy stutter in terror. "You mean he really _is_ one?" Harry saw the teacher nod and Malfoy had blanched. "Well, I've got to be heading toward the library. Rick, Marcus, Pansy, and Sam are waiting on me, and I don't want to let them down. Keep up your good work, Professor...I mean, _Cain_!" Harry started to walk and then heard that same voice say, "Hey, Potter! Wait up!"

Harry stopped and let Draco catch up. "I've never seen that teacher before," he said. "Who is he?" He wanted some answers from the Slytherin, but he wasn't sure he was going to get them. He held his wand close by, just in case he would need it.

"Oh, that's Professor Cyanis," said Draco. "You know, the _other_ teacher that Recommended me to the Hawkbanes besides Snape? He teaches Hypnotism and Persuasive Methods, and he's a really good friend of my dad's."

He stopped to catch his breath and then he said, "He's also helping Rick and me out on that little case involving Lupin's death. Thanks to him, I think we've got a lead."

"Let me guess," said Harry. He made his voice sound as sarcastic as possible when he said, "Is the culprit _Skylarke_, by any chance?"

"Were you spying on us?" Draco hissed; his silver eyes were filled with suspicion.

"No," Harry quickly snapped back. "Anyone could have heard you, the way your voices were booming about; it was hard _not_ to hear you." He then asked, "Was Cyanis a Death Eater like your dad? I saw the Dark Mark on his arm."

"Not that I know of," said Draco. "That's not the real thing; Cain has a tattoo. He thinks it makes him look tough, and everyone that knows Cain Cyanis _knows_ it's a fake."

Suddenly, Harry realized he was approaching the library. "I'm meeting Pansy, Sam, Marcus, and Rick about Lewn's project in here," said Draco. "Weren't you heading this way, too? Working with Granger and Weasley, I take it? Who are your other two members in your group?"

"Wells and Goldman," said Harry. "You know Celia and Josh; don't you?"

"I sure do…they're Seventh Years!" said Draco. "Well, I need to see you right after dinner today, okay? It's about this stuff that Cain gave me. I'm pretty sure Skylarke's the guilty party, so I'll see you in Turret Seven, right next to Parenein's room."

Harry couldn't bring himself to swallow that. Skylarke didn't seem the type to hurt or murder anyone, and the grievous look on his face when he saw Lupin's portrait was so _genuine_...he just couldn't be the murderer, no matter what anyone else told Harry to prove that theory wrong. There was no ounce of bellicose evil in that particular teacher, as far as Harry knew. He wanted to believe Draco was on his side this year, but he also wanted to know what it was that Professor Skylarke knew...perhaps something about his parents and Sirius.

"You're wrong, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, but he looked to see Draco was already in the library. "Malfoy, are you there?"

"Harry! There you are!" said an energetic female voice. Harry turned to see Celia. "We've been waiting for you to get here. I went by Lewn's office, and she handed me this for our project. Isn't this a pocket watch like Muggles use? I think it's fascinating!"

Harry told Celia that's exactly what Professor Lewn had given them, and she laughed. "Well, Josh is looking up our necessary Clairvoyancy technique to discover how this thing will be affecting us in our future. Could you help Hermione over there? She's trying to find a technique to determine the past of the watch."

"Sure," said Harry. He walked over toward Hermione and picked up a book halfheartedly. He skimmed through it, trying to find that Lazurren technique Professor Lewn had talked about once or twice, but his mind was preoccupied with troubled thoughts. He couldn't concentrate on Clairvoyancy...all he could think about was Lupin.

For the project, the Hawkbanes had excused all their students from their classes for the rest of the week. It had been a kind move, but they had all given the students some rather difficult assignments to complete by Monday. Harry couldn't believe that Cassandra had actually asked the teachers if she could work _solo_. This was a lot of work for five people...how much was it for one seriously reclusive person? Harry had finally found something called the Unnibelion technique that looked handy, (the Unnibelion would let you watch first-hand at the object's past) but then his attention shifted to the fact that his group had left for dinner. He gazed out the window and saw a rather colorful sunset, proving that he had spent probably an hour in Clairvoyancy and You by Dr. Artemis Acheron without any luck. He examined the library and realized only three other people were in there with him, and they most certainly were _not_ students. Harry recognized one of the figures as Snape, and another as Sprout, and the third as Snitch grass.

"'Dis ees gehting ow tov 'and!" snapped Snitchgrass. "You've got to 'ave wrocks 'vor brains to even 'zink about putting Miss Acheron in Slytherin, Severus!"

Apparently, Snitchgrass was becoming less concerned about concealing her strong accent. She had done a good job at the Welcoming Speech, but she was harder to decipher now. "She should be put in Gryffindor because she vill cause vay too much damage in Slytherin. I 'ave already talked to ze representatives vor ze other 'ouses 'bout zis matter, but you ar' reeeeeally beginning to get on ze nerves, Potions mastore! You vant zat pipsqueak in Slytherin, vhere you vill be able to keep ze eye on 'er ev'ry move, right? I oppose zat." Snitchgrass curled her hand into a fist and about punched Snape with it, but Sprout stopped her.

"Lucinda, calm down," Sprout said. "I think that Giselle Acheron should be put in Hufflepuff, so she won't lose her sweet personality. What do you think?"

"I zink zat is a ton of bull!" hissed Snitchgrass. "Bull_ shit_!" Harry couldn't help but snicker at his Hawkbane's funny accent. She sounded hilarious shouting at other people, in his opinion, and would probably be able to do stand up comedy in the Muggle world successfully with that accent...if she really wanted to. "Listen to me! Acheron should be a Gryffindor!"

"But, Lucinda, if you don't mind my cutting in," said Snape sternly, "You were a Slytherin when you were a student, is that correct?"

"Yes," said Snitchgrass. "I vas a Slytherin, zat is true."

"Then why suggest Giselle to not become one? She's got the intelligence and background for the House, so why not welcome her to Slytherin with open arms?" Snape looked pretty smug about this, and gave a foul grin to Snitchgrass, who threatened to give him another black eye to match the one she gave him earlier.

"Shut up," said Snitchgrass, "I vant Giselle Acheron to be in Gryffindor so she von't go roun' causing chaos and reeking 'avoc! She could easily be ze nex' Dark Vizard to seize control an' power. I sensed ze vrong aura in zat little girl vor Slytherin."

"She could be the next example of excellence, if guided correctly," said Sprout.

"Can it, you!" snapped Snitchgrass. "I zink my vord is vay better zan both ov yours since I am, in vact, a Hawkbane! Dumbledore vill listen to me virst!" She walked off with a chuckle in her voice. Sprout followed, determined to prove Lucinda Snitchgrass wrong.

Harry found this very entertaining, and then remembered Giselle Acheron was the cedar-haired little girl that the Sorting Hat couldn't sort, no matter how hard it tried. Were the teachers still having that much trouble for such a tiny little girl? Harry put the book he was looking at up, and was about ready to meet Draco about that encounter with the Hypnosis and Persuasive Methods teacher, until he heard what Snape was muttering under his breath. "One of these days, Lucinda, you're not going to be so high and mighty. Your days are numbered."

Harry pondered those words as he tried to find Draco. He wanted to know what had turned up that pointed Skylarke as the guilty party in Lupin's murder instead of Snape. Harry had pulled out an article in the Daily Prophet that had stated that Snape's fingerprints had been found on the mangled body. What proof did Malfoy have that pointed away from something as concrete as _that_? It would have to be something very impressive and almost unbelievable to prove Snape innocent. Harry had the feeling Malfoy just wanted to help get the Potions Master out of trouble, even though he was sure the Slytherin knew perfectly well that Snape was the guilty party.

Harry skipped dinner and rushed straight to Turret Seven. Draco was there with nobody else, just as he had said he would be. "Glad to see you didn't bring Weasley and Granger to tag along, Potter!" said Draco. "I just wanted to show you this," he said as he pulled out the little red bottle Professor Cyanis had given him. "Do you know what it is?" When Harry said he didn't, Draco sighed. "Neither do I. All Cain would tell me was that it would _comply with our goal_. He said I should keep it hidden from Ahsimal unless I want to unleash a terror I can't control. I can get whatever I want out of Skylarke if I slip this into his food...or anyone else's, for that matter."

"Is it a form of Veritaserum?" asked Harry.

"I seriously doubt that anyone would slip that stuff to a student, so I'm guessing this is just something that makes guilty people confess."

"Is there any chance an innocent man would confess to hide the deeds of a guilty one, if under the spell of that stuff?" Harry didn't want Skylarke to get in trouble, if indeed he was innocent. "Will it twist minds?"

"How am I supposed to know, Potter?" snapped Malfoy. "Cain only gave me this stuff today, and he wouldn't tell me what it was because someone, probably you, was spying on our conversation!"

'_Can you call teachers by their first names?'_ thought Harry. '_I think it's really disrespectful...I'd love to give it a try!'_

"Yeah, you can do that, only if they give you permission personally!" said Malfoy. Harry then realized in dread that he had spoken his mind out loud, where the Slytherin could hear him! "Anyone tell you to call them by their first name besides Wolfgang?" Wolfgang, also known as Professor Leir, insisted that everyone called him by his first name, seeing as he was still very close to their age. "It's a sign of trust and familiarity--"

"What are you two doing in here?" a voice said. Harry could tell it was a girl with a venomous tune of deep annoyance, probably his age. "Show yourselves!" Harry looked around, realizing that it was not only very dark in here, but he and Draco had been hiding, just in case someone had spotted them. "I can see well in the Dark, so I know you're hiding from me. You're only postponing the inevitable by doing so."

"Who are you to bark at a prefect, whoever-you-are?" Draco snapped.

"An extremely bored person, if that answers your question," the voice was calmer now, but it was still tinged with a rather threatening aura. '_Whoever she is, she's in a very foul mood.'_ Harry couldn't help but think that tone in the voice sounded vaguely familiar, kind of like Snape. Before he or Draco could say anything, they heard the speaker say _"lumos"_ and her wand let off dim, amber light.

Harry looked up to see who had caught them in Turret Seven. He saw a girl in black robes with a ruby red fire pattern on the sleeves. Her dark eyes were looking at the two boys in a very unmerciful way. Harry was glad that the girl's untidy, raven black hair was covering up most of her sallow face, including her glasses. She had her lip curled a bit, showing severe irritability. That's when he recognized her as...

"Cassandra!" he found himself saying. He then got really curious. "What gives you the right to go sneaking up on us like that? What are you doing up here?"

Cassandra got a rather smug look on her face and folded her arms. "I was checking to see if this room was empty or not, and since my life is not a public matter, I have no reason or desire to explain myself to you or anyone else, Potter." She shrugged and said calmly, "Oh, and I won't report to anyone that I saw you here, if you return the favor."

"That sounds fair!" shouted Draco, blowing his cover.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow and said coldly, "So, _you're_ the one that was fussing about me barking at a prefect? I never would have guessed that you and Potter were up to something in here, Malfoy, of all people...what were you doing up here?"

"We'll tell you if you tell us what _you_ were up to!" said Harry. "Fair enough?"

Cassandra shrugged. "Very well; you go first." She leaned against the wall, still keeping that very smug look on her face. Harry couldn't help but think she reminded him of a cat looking at a mouse it had just cornered, knowing that fate was not in the rodent's favor. '_Someone like her would be up to no good._ _She's always by herself, away from everybody, as if she thinks she's better than everyone else_.' Although he had first thought her to act a bit like Sirius, a fun-loving rulebreaker, he could tell right now that there was something about her that he really was beginning to loathe. She seemed treacherous and unkind. Harry admitted to himself that she didn't act very arrogant, but she obviously wasn't lacking self-esteem, judging by how she spoke.

"Malfoy and I were going to duel in secret, so nobody would interfere with us. We didn't want teachers or other students getting in the way," said Harry. "That satisfy you?"

"Meagerly," said Cassandra, "but I guess it will suffice for now. Although it is none of your business, or Malfoy's for that matter, what I was going to do up here, I said I would tell you. Very well...I come up here to communicate with someone. My mother and father told me about this place ages ago. They referred to it as the Aerie and that if I wanted privacy and silence for my work, this would be the perfect place to go, seeing as there are only empty rooms in Turret Seven. Several secret circles have been formed in the past in this very place in Hogwarts, including the Death Eaters. Something sinister happened here a long time ago, and this is the only place in the entire castle besides a few other places I barely visit anymore where I can have a conversation with Sebastian in peace." Once she started to speak, Cassandra kept on going.

'_It's probably because she has no friends to talk to_,' Harry thought. "Who?"

Cassandra lost what little bit of color was left in her face and bit her lip. Her hair was out of her face now, and Harry could see her dark eyes were wide open, unstaring. He also looked to see her hand was twitching a bit. "I've said too much," she muttered. "But I guess there is no turning back now...I've already said his name..." She looked up at Harry and Draco, then sighed. "Sebastian Argentum was Potions Master here before Severus got the position. He died a miserable death, and something is making some people here suffer from severe anxiety or depression."

'_Does she know she's perfectly describing _**_Skylarke_**_?'_ thought Harry with curiosity. "That sounds like the Curses & Rootwork teacher, if you ask me."

"Pointing fingers at Skylarke, are we?" Cassandra said in a tormenting voice that was making Harry's face turn red. She wasn't offending him, but he still found her intensely unpleasant. "I think he's innocent. The culprit isn't Mortimer, and I can guarantee you that my uncle's hands aren't the bloodied ones, either."

Harry looked to see Malfoy was looking at Cassandra in a very weird way. It wasn't in the way of a crush, but with another type of interest Harry couldn't figure out. "But," said Harry, "Snape's fingerprints were found on the body, right?"

"That's not as important as you would first think," Cassandra retorted hotly. Harry was rather surprised to see that the girl did indeed have a temper, but he could also tell that it was rising at a fast rate. "A hellion or gorgonix could do the same thing!" she snapped. Obviously, something had made her petulant. Her eyes were narrowed…she looked absolutely menacing.

"What's a gorgonix?" Harry asked, but that just seemed to get Cassandra even more angry than she already was.

"Why don't you ask your friend Granger, Potter? I bet she could tell you just as easily as I could that a gorgonix is an extremely dangerous creature that uses a human as a host until it no longer needs to feed off others. Like a basilisk, humans making eye contact with the monster die immediately. However, the gorgonix resembles a chimaera or hellion the most, because it can Shapeshift and take the form of whatever it or its host pleases. The transformations are so perfect that something as unique as _fingerprints_ are copied with absolute accuracy! Didn't know what a gorgonix was until now, did you?"

Harry shivered at the shrill pitch in Cassandra's voice...it didn't sound human at all, nor did it sound pleasant. There was something glowing in the back of her dark eyes, like a green flame reaching out into the darkness. He was sure she was a pawn of Voldemort's, but he couldn't be affirmative. She had been nice earlier, now she was being fiendish and cold-blooded. "Skylarke mentioned it once, and he mentioned Sebastian Argentum, too." Harry said this quickly, hoping to calm her down a bit. _She looks hideous when she gets riled up like this...absolutely putrid_.

"Did he?" Cassandra said. Her eyes sparkled for a minute, and she seemed to be acting like her old self. "Thanks for that tidbit of information." She stopped to give Harry a wink and a smirk. "Well, I'll be sure to have a nice little chat with him. I want to know what he knows, even if he says that understanding this means inescapable death. With what's surely approaching, I do not fear death. Actually, I'd almost welcome it."

Harry gave Cassandra a fake smile and said, "I bet Hermione would like to meet you. You always seem to get good grades, like she does, and you both spend a lot of your time in the library studying...I bet you'd have a lot in common." _Surely Cassandra wants a friend. She'd have to be mental _**_not_**_ to want one._ Harry was shocked at her answer.

"I try my best not to make friends," Cassandra said flatly. Harry looked in the girl's eyes and could have almost sworn that he had seen those cold and dark eyes turn a bit misty with...were those _tears_? Harry couldn't tell; the lighting was doing some pretty weird things.

"Why?" asked Harry. _I was right; she _**_is _**_mental!_

"Becoming my friend is a death wish in most cases," she said coldly. "It's not that I'm a nutter, because I assure you I'm perfectly sane. I stay away from people for their own good."

"What are you going to do to them?" Malfoy asked, now joining into the conversation. Harry had forgotten he was in there. "The worst that can happen is you become a bad influence on someone with your morbid personality, right?"

Cassandra shot Malfoy a bloodcurdling look that made Harry shiver, even though that spiteful glare wasn't cast directly at him. "I can't tell you why, because you wouldn't believe me. Besides, I swore it to secrecy. All I can tell you is that I share this same secret with Darius--"

"_Who?"_ Malfoy and Harry both said at the same time.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. Harry still saw that weird flame in her eyes, but they were no longer misty. "_Professor Ahsimal_," she said in a dull voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Turret Seven is apparently occupied by you two. That means I'll have to find another place for peace and undisturbed silence--"

"You can stay here. Malfoy and I will, uh, _duel_ somewhere else!" said Harry. He turned to Malfoy and said, "Why don't we go to the Trophy Room or something? It would be easy enough to fool Filch into--"

"Wait!" Cassandra said. "I know another room you can go into where you can duel and do whatever. Nobody will disturb you in there, but my eyes really don't like the lights in there. They never go out and it's the brightest room in the whole castle." Her face was twisted in a nasty way. "I hate going in there because it gives me a rather nasty headache."

"Hey, thanks!" said Harry. "I guess we'll leave the Aerie to you, then."

"If you two come up here again," Cassandra said in a hazardous tone that made Harry find her even more detestable. He was once more unprepared to hear the rest. "...I'll welcome your company, as long as you don't find me alone in here, sitting on the floor with my eyes closed, talking to someone who appears not to be there." She laughed. "If I'm like that, I **_beg_** you not to break my concentration. If you do, and I'm in that state, I can guarantee both of you that you will have slow and painful premature deaths."

She led Harry and Malfoy down a long staircase, through three very long halls, to a room Harry had never seen before. The whole place was covered in brass-tinted mirrors. Even the floor was a reflection, and it was impossible to scratch or smear the glass. There was a single lantern at the top of the room, but its glow was brighter than any other room in Hogwarts. "That damn light never goes out, and it never dims, either," said Cassandra drearily. "Nobody will ever bother you in here. Look deep into the mirrors and you'll see what I'm talking about. They become windows to other places on campus." She pulled out her wand and then said in a rather shaky voice, "Don't duel until I'm out of here."

"Why? Scared I'll hurt Potter?" asked Malloy.

"Scared I'll hurt _you_, Malfoy?" Harry snapped back. He wasn't going to be the butt of Malfoy's joke, even if Cassandra was, like Draco, a Slytherin in Advanced Placement.

Cassandra blanched again, and looked about the room in a small panic and then forced herself to say, "Blood makes me…_squeamish_." Her eyes glittered in a very weird way. "I guess I'll go now." She then gulped, closed the door, and Harry could hear her rushing off towards the Aerie again. _I have _**_got_**_ to introduce Cassandra to Hermione_. '_Being nice to me is a Death wish' she said...I bet that's nothing but bull and she just isn't confident enough to make her own friends. She's just being antisocial and trying to annoy me_. Harry looked about the room. He'd have to remember the directions to this Room of Mirrors. It was rather nice.

"Wait, Cassandra!" shouted Malfoy. "A few friends of mine and I are investigating the Lupin case unofficially, and we were wondering if you'd like to join us."

Cassandra stopped and gave Malfoy a look as if he had just asked her to run around the school wearing a pink bikini, or if he had just sprouted thestral wings out of his nose; she looked absolutely appalled. "I have sworn to try my best to not make new friends, didn't you hear me? Helping you and your friends investigate is just as dangerous as offering your hand out to me in friendship. I cannot accept, because that would be putting you and others in jeopardy."

Malfoy gave Cassandra a look as if she had just seriously humiliated him. "Why do you feel so inclined to be antisocial? What do you have against other people who are just trying to invite you into a group you might actually _like_?" Harry saw the light flicker and noticed Cassandra had just put on a pair of sunglasses similar to those Atticus wore.

Cassandra glowered at Malfoy. "You wouldn't understand." With that, she was off again. "Don't call me back in here. I get the feeling you'll be in the Aerie in a few days, so you can go interrogate me then. I've got a headache from being in here too long."

"She's a little _strange_, but I don't think she's too bad," Harry said to Ron, Hermione, Josh, and Celia at the breakfast table for the Hawkbane students. "She's got all her Hawkbane classes with us, so there's plenty of time to introduce yourselves."

"You want us to talk to Cassandra_ Snape_!" Josh looked terrified of that idea. "She's a horror and a disaster waiting to happen! Haven't you heard the rumors about her? Someone in Ravenclaw, I think it was Lisa Turpin, told me that they'd seen Cassandra in a girl's bathroom, drinking something in a vial that unmistakably looked like blood. She also reads about the Dark Arts for sheer enjoyment, taking notes and writing something in a black book."

Celia nodded and said, "I've never spoken to her. She just seems to blend into the shadows so well, doesn't she? Why change that? She reminds me of her uncle, and I take that to mean she's _not_ a pleasant person to be around!"

"Isn't that the girl that you saw shoplift that crystal from Professor Nezura's curiosity shop this summer, Harry? The one that was semi-nice?"

"Yeah, that was her," said Harry. "She wasn't so polite this time, and she's a bit creepy, but I think maybe Hermione would get along with her."

"How could I get along with _her_?" Hermione snapped, dropping her porridge bowl and spilling its contents all over the table. She took no notice and continued, "What could I possibly have in common with a greasy-haired Slytherin who drinks blood, studies the Dark Arts, and shoplifts palm crystals?"

"She didn't shoplift, I found out," Harry said. "She went outside to ask Nezura how much the palm crystal was, not to make a clean getaway with her stolen goods." He put his porridge bowl down and said, "This could have tasted better," under his breath. He then faced Hermione and said, "Well, she spends a lot of time in the library, like you. She also seems very serious about her grades, like you. Er...and she snaps at me, _exactly _like you."

Hermione looked at Harry as if he had just swore at her. She didn't look too happy and her eyes were getting misty. "Look, Hermione," Harry said. "It was just a joke..."

The project for Professor Lewn was due today, and she wanted two feet of parchment on the history and importance in the future of the assigned items, and a detailed description of every technique tried, used, or looked up. "You _did_ do the project, didn't you, Group Four?"

Group Four consisted of Lisa Turpin and Ella Jorkins, and nobody else, since there were only eighteen Hawkbane students. They would have had three, had Cassandra not insisted on working on a single person project. "Well," started Lisa, "we _did_ do it, Professor Lewn, but Ella here left it in her dormitory. Could she _please_ go get it?"

Had this been Professor Snape, ten points from Ravenclaw and ten points from Hufflepuff would have been taken for laziness, and both girls would have gotten detention and a 'T.' Had this been Professor Nezura, they would have had to write lines. Had this been Professor Furrier, Lisa and Ella would have had to spend a couple of hours that night cleaning up hairballs. But, this was Lewn, and it was known that she and Ebonyste would accept excuses like this and allow students to hand in the project or homework the next day, and only take a point or two away for lateness. "You can turn it in tomorrow, okay? Don't forget, you two!"

Harry saw Celia squirm in her seat. She looked ready to turn in their project and get it over with. "Would Group Three come here, please?" Harry saw Malfoy, Marcus, Rick, Pansy Parkinson, and a boy with a really large Adam's apple stand up and face the blonde teacher. "Leader of Group Three, please tell everyone which item I gave you for this project."

"You gave us a charm bracelet, Professor," Malfoy said in a calm voice. "We performed the Espellion technique, thanks to Pansy and her wonderful knowledge in Clairvoyancy techniques. She spotted it in Clairvoyancy and You by Dr. Artemis Acheron." The big girl in the sweater looked satisfied with this. Apparently, she had found the technique. Harry wondered why she had found something when he hadn't in that book. Maybe he wasn't paying attention or hadn't bothered using the glossary.

"Explain the Espellion to the class," said Professor Lewn as she sipped some sort of fizzy drink from a big cup with a spiral-shaped magenta straw. Everyone heard a slurp.

"The Espellion," said Pansy, "is an intermediate Clairvoyancy technique used to unlock secrets of the past. It was first used by Evelyn Espellion, the famous seer, in 1623. It has been used to find other spells and charms that were used in ancient magic, and is one of the easiest ways to translate ancient writings and hieroglyphics, if you don't want to take the time to learn them."

"Wonderful, Miss Parkinson!" cheered Lewn. "Twenty points to Slytherin, thank you!" She then turned to Marcus and said, "Using the Espellion, tell me...how did I get the charm bracelet and what did I do to it a week before I let you use it?"

Marcus timidly looked at his classmates as he pulled out his cypress wand. Harry had never seen a wand that long before...it was larger than a heavy drumstick. "Let me see," he heard Marcus mutter. "How did this go again?...oh! Right! I can do this!" After Marcus finished his little secret pep talk, he went in front of the class and shouted, _"Vangelico Espellion!"_ at the top of his lungs. He then touched the charm bracelet and something glowed for a brief second. Marcus faced Lewn (who was still sipping on her drink with pleasure) and said, "Your dad gave you that charm bracelet when you were seven as a birthday present and for good luck. However, it's been causing you a lot of misfortune lately. You've tried chucking it in the trash, but it always ends up back in your hands again. That is what you did a week before sending this thing to us for our project."

"Lovely, Cantarus!" said Lewn. "Another twenty, no I think that deserves thirty, points to Slytherin! Splendid job you did there." She then giggled and said, "Sam McCallisten, would you please tell me what's going to happen to the bracelet in the future and how it will affect you?"

Apparently, that hadn't been Sam's part of the project. "I don't know...ask Rick."

"Okay, but that gives you a zero on group work, dear. Sorry, Sam," said Lewn. "Well then, Fallowin...what's in the future for the bracelet and how will it affect you?"

Rick stood in front of all the Sixth and Seventh Years and said as quickly as he could, "The bracelet will continue to cause misfortune and will eventually be lost in the lake, courtesy of you. However, your fate is to keep egging me to keep it, since you obviously don't want it anymore."

Harry heard Lewn mutter, "Damn right I don't," and looked at Rick. The Fourth Year looked absolutely terrified in front of all these older students. "Continue, Fallowin."

Rick gulped. "Yes, Professor. Well, in the end, you personally will destroy the bracelet, and then you'll actually want it back, I'm afraid. After all the time you'll spend pushing the members of Group Three to keep it!" Harry barely understood a word of what Rick was saying, because the boy was saying it as fast as he could and that had all been in one breath. '_Poor Rick_,' thought Harry. '_Lewn shouldn't've called on him_.'

Malfoy then did a mock bow and went up to Lewn and said, "How did we do?"

"I'd have given you guys an O, really I would have, had Sam been able to answer instead of Rick. I had plans of asking Rick how much research you all did, but by your presentation, you've got the Espellion down-pat. Remember it for your exam at the end of the year. Your grade on this project is an E. This exceeded my expectations, really it did. Bravo to you five on a job well done!"

Group Two didn't have as much success, but they looked happy enough to get an A from Lewn after returning a hot pink stuffed animal that Harry thought looked like either a floppy eared rabbit or a hound puppy with a stumpy tail. "Group Three? Granger, Goldman, Potter, Weasley, Wells...come up here and show everyone what I let you use."

Ron showed everyone the pocketwatch and gulped. "Well, Harry," he whispered. "Watch us get a P." He then looked at Lewn and said, "You let us use a pocket watch."

"That is correct. I let you use a Muggle pocketwatch," said Lewn sweetly. "Now, could you let the leader of your group tell me what technique or techniques you used and explain the properties of each?"

Harry prayed that Hermione had been made leader, not him. However, when he opened his eyes, he saw Josh was pushed to the front of the room. He still looked cool, even when a bit nervous in front of a crowd. "Okay...we used the Unnibelion technique, first used by Ursula Unnibelion in 1552. This technique lets you watch first-hand the past of the object you touch after the spell rushes into effect. Harry found that one for us in the library, after the rest of us were all tuckered out."

"Excellent!" squealed Lewn. "The Unnibelion is not something easy to manage, Goldman! Forty points to Hufflepuff! Now, Potter, if you want to get Gryffindor some bonus points, and help your group out, could you tell me who else used a variation of the Unnibelion on a diary?"

"Tom Riddle?" Harry said weakly. He was sure that was a wrong answer, but it was worth a try. He was shocked when he saw Lewn nod and give him a thumbs up.

"Good job, Potter!" Lewn piped. "Ten points to Gryffindor. I won't need to ask you any more, so you and Goldman can take your seats."

Atticus yawned. "Okay, I'm next."

Lewn nodded. "You sure enough are, Shadow. Could you tell me the technique you used to determine the future of the watch?"

"I sure can...that was my role in this project, Professor," Atticus said, his eyes glittering behind his sunglasses. "We used the Orian technique, founded by Luke Orian in 145, during the days of Ancient Rome. It allows you to gaze into the future of an object, without having to touch it. You merely have to clear your mind of everything else but the item before using the spell."

"Forty points to Gryffindor! Splendid, Shadow!" Lewn then said, "Okay, Granger. Let's see what you've got. Use the Unnibelion to tell me how I got the watch."

"_Vangelis Unnibelion!"_ shouted Hermione. She touched the item and then said, "You pickpocketed a Muggle twenty years ago for this!" Lewn nodded, gave Hermione's answer another thirty points for Gryffindor House. "Just don't tell anyone that, okay? It'll be our little secret!"

"Well, that leaves just Celia Wells, doesn't it?" said Lewn. "Wells, use the Orian to tell me how this watch will affect the future."

"_Vangelis Orian!"_ shouted Celia. She closed her eyes and then said dreamily, "I see this watch falling from Turret Six. It's Parenein's doing. He'll take the watch and throw it out of one of his windows. On the way down, it will hit Malfoy in the back of the head. Due to the speed of its falling and the pressure built up, I see a cracked skull in his future." Some people were laughing. "I suggest you wear a helmet until that happens."

Harry and Ron clapped as Celia got fifty points added to Ravenclaw's score. "I'm giving you thirty for your good answer, seeing as it's accurate, and the other twenty points are for helping another student with your forecast. Bravo, Group One...you've got an O."

Harry's eyes widened in amazement. He was so happy, and so was the rest of the group. Everyone but Atticus (who couldn't because he was paraplegic) was jumping up and down, and started doing a little victory dance, singing, "We got an 'O!' We got an 'O!'"

"Yes, we're all aware of that," said Lewn. "Good job, Group One. Please take your seats. We have one more person that needs to present her project results. Snape, come up here and tell everyone about your project."

Cassandra stepped in front of everyone, her dark hair in her face once more. She got a smug look on her face and then said, "You gave me this scarf for the project. I used the Macedalion technique for both past and future. The Macedalion was first used by a Dark wizard known simply as Macedethe around the time of the Bubonic Plague epidemic. It is rarely used today, because it is said to be extremely treacherous. However, it is very accurate. Some of the information one can learn from using this technique are beyond the limits of the item placed in front of you, therefore making it a rather complex Clairvoyancy technique to master."

"Okay, please use the Macedalion to tell me the past of the scarf, and how it will affect the future for someone," Lewn said. Harry thought he heard her voice shake a bit.

"Very well," said Cassandra, not losing her aura of calmness. She pulled out her wand (it had an amulet of some sort at the end) and then said icily, _"Vangelis Macedalion."_ She stood there, blank and unstaring, for about two seconds before she said, "You knitted this yourself four years ago for a lover, but he didn't like it. You thought he was a Ravenclaw, so you knitted it with blue and bronze, not knowing that his true colors were green and silver, since he was actually a Slytherin. He kept that his dirty little secret, didn't he, Claire?"

Lewn's mouth was wide open, gaping. Cassandra saw this and her eyes gleamed even more. "He returned it to you after he got what he wanted from you, and you kept it as a memory. The Macedalion has also given me the information that this same scarf will be a murder weapon…for your own demise. A scarf this long and thick can be tightly twisted and it would be all too easy to strangle someone like you would with a belt or rope." Cassandra laughed shrilly, and she stopped to put on a pair of sunglasses, since the light was hurting her eyes badly.

Harry heard her mutter, "time is running out for you, Claire," as she put these on, and then saw her rush to the front of the classroom, giving that inhuman scream she had given in the Aerie. She was certainly not in her right mind; Cassandra was clawing at herself with her long nails and her eyes glowed with that emerald fire. She screamed, "Get it out of me!" several times before collapsing into a heap. Harry and the other students saw her fall to the floor gracelessly, her eyes wide open and staring, her mouth twitching, and her bloodstained hands shaking violently, as if she were having a serious seizure. She was a total mess and it seemed the Professor couldn't snap her out of the trance. Everyone panicked.

Lewn was seriously shaken by this action and stuttered, "W-w-well, she did use th-the Macedalion t-technique. I seriously s-suggest n-none of you follow M-miss Snape's example and t-try to use t-this method to f-f-further understand t-the art of Clairvoyancy. It's v-very dangerous and it has a t-tendency to _k-kill_ even p-professional C-clairvoyants."

"That was freaky," a voice said behind Harry. He turned around to see Atticus. "Poor wretch; I almost feel sorry for her."

"The key word there is _'almost,'_ right Atticus?" said Ron. After working together on the project with the watch, Ron had become friends with Atticus and was now turning a deaf ear to any harsh rumors about his friend. He no longer saw Atticus Shadow IX as a monster that could petrify people, but as a charming and good-natured friend. He would argue, and sometimes even threaten to beat someone to a pulp, if someone called Atticus a monster or a supporter of Voldemort. He never admitted that he had felt that all of that had been true until he had met Atticus face to face. "She really isn't that pleasant."

"Yeah, but she's got to have an impressive knowledge of the Dark Arts to learn how to do the Macedalion that perfectly! It's a pity that it got interfered with, though. I wanted her to tell everyone how long Lewn has left. That would have been interesting," Hermione added. "Harry, didn't you want to introduce me to her?"

"Now's not the time for that, Hermione!" Harry snapped and pointed a finger at Cassandra, who was violently squirming around as if she was being tortured by the Crucatius curse. "Look at her! Have you ever seen someone act like that? She was okay a just a couple of minutes ago!"

Atticus flinched and covered his sunglasses, hoping to become blind to the girl's agony. "This is tearing me apart," he said. "I really feel sorry for her, especially now."

"I just want her to stop," Josh said flatly. Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement. "She's making me sick, just watching her."

"Stop it, Josh!" Celia hissed. "I don't think she can help it. It's not her fault she's acting like this. It's all Lewn's fault for letting her do this by herself. Oh, why isn't she getting someone to take Cassandra to the infirmary already?"

Suddenly, Lewn stood up and said, "I'm l-leaving one of m-my sponsored s-students in c-c-charge of the c-c-classroom. I p-p-pick...Goldman! Josh, p-please look after the c-class for me w-while I go get Madame P-Pomfrey and t-t-tell Professor Snape what just h-h-happened to his n-niece." She rushed out of the room, her glittery pink robes flowing behind her. She immediately turned around and said, "If any of y-y-you are g-g-g-going to be v-v-visiting Cassandra in t-t-the infirmary, p-p-please inform her t-t-that I gave her p-p-project an Outstanding. It was s-s-s-sheer genius...until t-this h-happened."

Josh waited for Lewn to rush out of Turret Two before closing the door. He then took a long stride over toward the Professor's pink desk and said, making fun of the honey-coated way Lewn talked, "Please sit in your seats and spend the rest of the classtime gawking at me in my radiant beauty." He brushed his hair with his fingers in the same feminine way Lewn did, and giggled a lot, mocking his own Hawkbane when she wasn't there. "Hey, why isn't anyone paying attention to my wonderful imitation of Lewn the whore?"

Nobody was paying attention to Josh. They were all morbidly watching Cassandra, who was still on the floor, with that look of horrendous fright on her face. It looked as if she would never wake up from an unbearable nightmare...far worse than most people could guess. Harry wondered grimly if she had seen Voldemort. Waiting for Madame Pomfrey to take Cassandra to the infirmary, Harry decided the most interesting thing to do would be to talk to Celia and Ron, since Hermione seemed to be engrossed in Clairvoyancy and You. "Doctor Acheron did a good job with details of these different techniques," Harry heard her mutter, "but I don't see anything about the Macedalion technique in here..."

"That's because it's a form of _Dark_ Clairvoyancy," said an energetic voice. The person who spoke had very soft and wavy cedar-colored hair and teal eyes with long, luxurious lashes. She was wearing a red-and-white striped sweater under her robes, with a pair of faded blue jeans. "Dr. Artemis Acheron doesn't want to write about anything that's part of the Dark Arts."

"Oh, really?" Harry said with sarcasm. "And how would _you_ know?"

"Because my dad _is_ Artemis Acheron, excuse you! My name is Isis Acheron." She glowered at him for a minute, then saw who she had snapped at, and her eyes widened. She bit her lip and said timidly, "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize that you were Harry Potter."

"It's okay," said Harry, holding out his hand to shake the pretty girl's. "Nice to meet you, Isis. What house are you in?"

Isis beamed and said sweetly, "Ravenclaw." She sighed and said, "The Heads of the Houses are still debating about where to place my kid sister Giselle!" Harry remembered the name Giselle Acheron...that had been who Sprout, Snape, and Snitchgrass had been bickering about in the library. "She's nothing but trouble, so I'm guessing she'll be put in Slytherin. I'm worried for her, though. I hope wherever they put her she makes some friends that won't talk down to her or take advantage of her being younger and smaller than them. She can be sweet when she wants to be, I admit." Isis winked and her cheeks turned a bit rosy. "And I'm so sorry for barking at you. It's just that I was in a bad mood and--"

"Look, it's okay," said Harry. "So, you're dad's a writer?"

Isis nodded. "He's a Healer over at St. Mungo's, but he wants people who are good at Clairvoyancy to sharpen their skills. Although he is quite happy with his job, he told me one time that he always wanted to be a Clairvoyant. He's obsessed, and that's why he studies the subject in his spare time and writes books on it. He never touches the Dark Arts part, though. He detests the Dark Arts. When I said that my Hawkbane was going to be Claire Lewn, the famous Clairvoyant who found the Fountain of Youth, you should have seen the look in Dad's eyes. He was thrilled!"

"Lewn's my Hawkbane!" said Ron, who tried to look impressive by flexing some muscle. Hermione elbowed him, and made him spill out the words, "Josh got Recommended by Lewn too."

"So did that Parkinson girl," Celia flatly said. "I'm guessing she's Lewn's Slytherin, seeing as you're her Gryffindor, Ron, and Josh is a Hufflepuff, and Isis said she was a Ravenclaw. That rules out all the houses but one, so that leaves Pansy in Slytherin."

"Yeah, I'm in Slytherin. Your point was _what_, Wells?" a hoarse soprano voice said. Harry and the others turned around to see Pansy was out of her seat, putting down a copy of Witch Weekly. She scowled at Celia and then turned to Hermione. "Hello, Hermione. Draco said while we were doing our project that your hair had gotten even fluffier, but I never imagined it being _this_ bad." Pansy giggled maliciously.

Hermione's hands were clenched in fists. "At least I'm not built like a tank."

Pansy stopped immediately, sat back down, and grumbled under her breath while continuing to read her magazine. Her knuckles were white and tightly clenched.

Isis continued telling Harry, Celia, Ron, and Hermione about her dad (obviously, she looked up to him) and her mum, Acheron, who was also a Healer over at St. Mungo's. "They're great people, and I want you to know that both of them believed you the whole time. They didn't follow all of that bullshit that was printed out last year by the Ministry of Magic."

"Uh huh..." said Harry, beginning to fall asleep listening to Isis drone on and on about her parents and how great they were. _She's even more boring than Binns..._

Suddenly, the door swung open and slammed into the wall, knocking a picture of Lewn in a tight pink dress in front of the Pyramids of Giza to the floor and breaking its frame. "Hey, be careful!" Lewn whined. "It took me _forever_ to frame my Egypt pictures!"

"Shut up, Claire!" a deep and venomous voice hissed. Harry recognized it and loathed it with a passion. Snape walked into the room in a rage. "Now, why did you drag me out in the middle of my class to Turret Two? This better be important!"

"Trust me, Severus," Lewn said timidly. "It's important." She looked about and saw her class still seated in their proper places. She mouthed, "thank you!" to all of them and blew a kiss when Snape wasn't looking.

"What the--_Cassandra_!" Snape shouted as he saw the girl all sprawled out, motionless, on the ground. He turned to Lewn and roared, "_What the Hell did you do to my damn niece, Claire_!"

"I didn't--" Lewn started, but was cut off.

"Don't give me that bullshit! What did you do to her?" Snape was furious as he picked up the limp form of Cassandra, who was still flinching silently.

"She did it, not me!" Lewn whined. "She did a Macedalion and--"

"She did a _what_!" Snape howled. "That's impossible! How could she--" he stopped and glanced at his unconscious niece. Harry felt sorry for both Severus and Cassandra Snape, looking at that picture of complete misery. He couldn't help but feel that Cassandra would never wake up to see her uncle or anyone else ever again. He got the feeling that she would stay this way for a very long time, and live only in that eternal nightmare she was seeing with those open, but vacant, eyes...oblivious to how much attention she was getting from her fellow Hawkbane students...unaware that there was pity in the room for her. "This is all your fault, Claire! You're the reason this happened!"

"I didn't _force_ her to do the Macedalion," Lewn said smugly, getting more courageous. She poked Snape with a pearly pink fingernail and growled, "It's your foolish little Cassandra who's to blame for this little incident. I didn't make the little wretch choose that particular technique; she did that irrationally out of her own free will--"

CRASH!

Lewn hit the floor and groaned, holding her silky hand up to her brow. "Ow..." It became obvious to Harry that Snape had punched her with all his might and made sure she landed on some hard objects on her way down. The pretty blonde teacher tried to get up, but Snape stuck a muddy boot on her shoulders, making sure that Lewn wasn't achieving this goal. "Get off me, _Snivellus_! Don't you realize that you're messing up my beautiful blonde hair?"

"Do you think I give a damn about your hair right now?" Snape bellowed, still furious about Cassandra's condition. "I hope you rot in Hell for what you did!" he shouted as loud as he could, and then rushed down the stairs carrying Cassandra's limp body.

Lewn finally got up, mud on her shoulders and in her hair. "What a _git_!" she said sourly, and then turned to her students. "Class is dismissed and don't even _think_ about coming tomorrow. There is no homework, except looking up the Macedalion technique. Please be ready to tell me first thing Monday why it's a foolish thing to try to do. It won't be in Clairvoyancy and You, so I'll let you all borrow my other book for this class...Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Good and Bad Clairvoyancy Techniques." She sweetly waved to her students as they left Turret Two. "I will _not_ be meeting my star students Saturday. HAVE A NICE DAY!" her last words dripped in sarcasm.

Harry was sitting in between Atticus and Ron at dinner, and across from Rick, Marcus, and Josh. Malfoy was doing detention for Snitchgrass, and that didn't bother Harry one bit. Harry hadn't gotten to take his class with Snitchgrass yet, so he was a little curious about her personality. He wondered if she was sweet and kind, or just as strict and harsh as she had looked at the Welcoming Feast. '_I haven't gotten a chance to even see her yet…that last time didn't count.'_

He also hadn't gotten around to taking Ahsimal yet, either. He was in no rush...Ahsimal (Cassandra's Hawkbane) was the Necromancy teacher, and he was a rather infamous figure over at Hogwarts. Nobody liked talking about Darius Ahsimal...everyone said he had a foul temper and slaughtered students who weren't passing his class with an 'Outstanding.'

Hermione was talking to Isis and Celia, her newly-found friends and study buddies, so none of the boys found it necessary to stop her and the two other girls from talking about stuff guys didn't want to hear about anyway…like which brand of eyeliner Professor Leir used.

"It's been bugging me all day," said Atticus. "I want to see Cassandra get back to normal."

"She never _was_ normal, Atticus," Ron said. "I bet she's always been mean and antisocial, but I guess she can't help that Snape raised her. That'd make _anyone_ go bad."

"Agreed," said Josh. "He'd always write up my friends, but he never did it to me. 'Said I was the only Hufflepuff he had that could make a Draught of Living Death properly. Don't know if that was a compliment or not; never can tell with Severus Snape the Greasy-Haired Git."

Harry looked at the Gryffindor table and saw a tall redheaded girl talking to a blonde girl with blue stripes in her hair and a chubby boy with braces that looked a little like a nerdy version of Josh. The redhead was holding what looked like a can of spray paint in her hand. The other two laughed hysterically after she whispered something to them. "Ron," he said. "Isn't that your cousin Winnefred?"

"_Sure is_!" Ron said. "And there's her friends Steve and Meredith. I bet they're up to no good. They can't go a day without doing something bad to someone." He grumbled. "They'd make _perfect_ Slytherins, I bet."

Harry looked to see Josh and Rick were whispering something to each other. "What are you two up to now?" he asked, curiously. "Care to fill me in?"

"Oh, it's just our kid siblings," said Josh. "Rick's sister Meredith--"

"_Half_ sister, Josh!" said Rick, taking a big bite out of his pork tenderloin.

"Well, Rick's _half_ sister Meredith and my little brother Steve are Winnefred Weasley's cronies and help her out in her delinquent activities," said Josh, smiling.

"Meredith is determined to embarrass me by the end of the year. She hates me," said Rick, stabbing at his meat and squashing his mashed potatoes half-heartedly.

Harry and Ron laughed at Rick's unhappy statement. "Don't worry, Rick," said Harry. "We'll back you up, okay?" Rick's gloomy expression vanished and he smiled at his two supporters. He said _thank you_ and asked Harry how he could make it up to them. "Well, you can hand over your piece of cake, for a start," Harry teased. He was surprised to see Rick hand it over without any grimaces. "What's the matter? Don't like the cake?"

Josh laughed. "No, Rick was finished telling me he's going on a low-carb diet."

Atticus tapped Harry's shoulder and said in a toneless voice, "You want this?"

Harry looked to see Atticus hadn't even touched his food. "Are you feeling okay, Atticus? You don't look well."

"I'm not feeling well, Harry," said Atticus. "I'm feeling guilty."

"Why?" asked Ron. "What could you possibly feel guilty about?"

Atticus was silent for a long time, and his expression just got gloomier. He sighed sadly and said, "I was so close to using the Macedalion technique for our project."

"But we used the Unnibelion and Orian techniques!" shouted Harry. "We didn't touch the Macedalion!"

"You have no idea how close I was to approving that very technique for our project," Atticus sadly said. "I'm glad I didn't, otherwise we'd be just like Cassandra Snape...oblivious to pity and scorn alike, trapped in a diabolical silence with no friends."

"Would you stop bringing up her name?" Marcus groaned. "I'm trying to _eat_!"

"That settles it," said Harry. "I'm going to the infirmary to pay her a visit tomorrow. We won't be having Clairvoyancy until Monday, so we have that period off." He looked at his friends and said, "Who else is coming?"

Ron stood up and said jokingly, "Well, someone has to tell her she made an O on her presentation and congratulate her for her spectacular performance in Turret Two."

"That is nothing to laugh about, Ron! She doesn't seem the type to want attention like that, unlike Isis Acheron, who always loves a good bit of attention for her audience." Atticus snarled; he obviously didn't think much of Isis. "I'm coming only because I pity her."

"I'm coming too," said Rick. "I'll go get her homework and missed assignments."

"Are you sure she won't attack us?" Josh warned. "She's a freak that dabbles in the Dark Arts; haven't you heard the rumors Lisa's telling everyone?"

"Lisa Turpin _again_!" Celia bellowed from the neighboring table. "She can't keep her big mouth shut for long, can she? She's always got to gossip about something."

"Are any of you coming for sure?" asked Harry. He wanted to know who he could count on. Rick chickened out after hearing what Josh said and decided to stay with him and Marcus. Hermione and Isis didn't want to even _look_ at Cassandra. Atticus and Celia suddenly remembered that they had to meet with Professor Furrier for Hawkbane purposes. All of this was a big disappointment to Harry. "Well, Ron, I guess it's just you and me."

"Oh, _lovely_," Ron said with tons of sarcasm. He then croaked, "I'll go, though."

"I knew I could count on you, at least!" Harry said. He wanted Ron to talk to Cassandra again, but that wasn't the reason he was taking him. The reason Harry was begging Ron to go with him was because he didn't want to be left alone in a room with someone who might be potentially dangerous...someone like Cassandra Snape.

There was a rather high chance that (if under the influence of a bad Mood Drop) Cassandra could be a hazard to either herself or to her visitors, and Harry didn't want to chance that. There was something uncanny about that girl, something that was driving him insane. It was very far from being love; it was a curiosity of some kind. Cassandra was weird and unusual, and anyone could see that.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

Pensieves, Mood Drops, and Snitchgrass

Harry looked behind him to see if Ron was following. "We're almost to the infirmary, Ron. I want to make sure she's okay."

"Why? She's not _our_ friend," Ron said, out of breath, and rather confused. "She doesn't have any."

"She knows something," Harry said. "I bet I can get some answers from her."

"Answers to _what_?" Ron asked. "About you and You-Know-Who?" When Harry nodded, Ron turned a bit pale. "How could she know anything about that?"

"Snape was a Death Eater," Harry said. "Maybe he told his niece some of his deepest, darkest, secrets. Besides, Cassandra's hiding something that only she and Ahsimal know about."

"Ahsimal…the Necromancy teacher?" Ron asked. "The glitzy albino fellow?" Harry nodded, and Ron turned very pale. "He's a little on the weird side, too. Never comes out of his room or office except when it's dark outside, and he's so _temperamental_! You never can tell what mood he's in until it's too late, according to Bill. I really don't think I'll like that class too much, either, seeing as it deals with _dead _things."

The long walk to the infirmary continued for quite some time, but Harry was determined to see how Cassandra was doing. He felt that he was the closest thing to a friend that she had, and that kind of made him pity her more. He felt bad for thinking her so detestable earlier. He wanted to be on the same side, and maybe even friends. In no way did he find her beautiful, because she really did have a strong resemblance to her uncle and she never really kept up with herself too well, but he did find her interesting in another way. She reminded him a bit of a mix between Sirius and Lupin in personality. Cassandra seemed to be mischievous and enjoyed a challenge, but she seemed to know when enough was enough and when to quit egging someone on. "Do you still have the sweets?" Harry asked Ron.

"I sure do, Harry," said Ron, opening his bag a bit to let his friend see a box of **Lorelei Siren's Mood Drops**. The bad ones had already been picked out, because neither Harry nor Ron wanted anything to go wrong. Ron beamed as he pulled out a Ziploc bag filled with the burgundy (just in case the blood drinking rumors were true), ruby red (it wouldn't do to get her angry), navy blue (they really didn't want to make Cassandra feel any more suicidal than she already was), blue (wasn't she depressed enough?), dark violet (they really didn't want her feeling cruel), and black (the last thing they wanted was Cassandra acting like a Death Eater) Mood Drops. "I left the pink, tangerine, orange, goldenrod, lemon, pine green, green, lime green, light blue, indigo, violet, light violet, white, and silver ones in, like you said."

Ron then looked at a pink one and groaned. "Can't we take these out of there, too? I don't want someone that looks that much like Snape getting all romantic and passionate on us! Cassandra kisses would be bad."

Both boys laughed at that, and decided to pull the pink drops out before entering the infirmary. After putting those in the bag with the other Mood Drops they weren't planning on giving Cassandra as a present, Ron got a good idea. "Hey, Harry...why don't we save these for something fun?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and got a big smile on his face. "What are you thinking?"

"I had a brilliant idea," said Ron. "How about we keep these bad ones and use them discreetly on people we don't like, say...Malfoy and his lot, perhaps?"

"His lot except for Rick and Marcus," said Harry. "Marcus is nice, and I like Rick. Malfoy was right about him...having Rick around is kind of like having a cool little brother with you."

"Cantarus and Fallowin won't get our _special treatment_," said Ron. Suddenly, he froze and said, "Well, Harry...here's our entrance. Want to go first?"

Harry opened the doors to see Madam Pomfrey wasn't in the room, nor was anyone else besides the person he had planned to visit in the first place. All the lights were out, except for a very dim glow coming from a fancy lantern next to Cassandra's bed. Her eyes were no longer blank, but looking at a book bound in thick, black silk. Her hands were no longer bloody and shaking, but were holding a black quill and writing notes in a notebook. On the table with the lantern were a couple of books. Harry couldn't make out the titles because it was so dark in here. Cassandra's hair had been thoroughly washed, and it was neatly combed. She had her nose, and most of her face, buried in that book, writing furiously with her left hand.

'_At least I won't have to wake her up_,' thought Harry. "Cassandra?" he said. Harry watched as she merely closed the book, marked her place with her quill, and simply put it aside with the other books. He looked to see that she was dressed in a black nightshirt and a pair of baggy, pajama pants with crescents on them.

She looked up at Harry and Ron with her dark eyes and said shyly, "Hello, Potter...Weasley." She had a timid smile on her face. "Thanks for visiting me." Her voice was rather weak, and she looked pretty tired, still pretty shaken from whatever-it-was she saw using the Macedalion Clairvoyancy technique.

"Um..." said Ron, not really knowing what to say to someone like this. "Professor Lewn told the whole class you got an 'Outstanding' for your project grade." Cassandra just nodded and muttered that she had known ahead of time Lewn would give her that score. She then grumbled something about Lewn being an airhead rather quietly. Ron asked, "Don't you ever get tired of doing everything _perfectly_ for your teachers?"

Cassandra shrugged weakly and got the rather familiar smug look on her face. "Well, it lacks variety, and gets boring at times, but I really look at grades as nothing more than a stepping stone for the career of my choice. Knowing this stuff will ensure that I will be able to refer back to it later on. You never know, there may be a time where being able to materialize a strong Patronus could save my life…or knowing how to make a Revitalization Potion could aid someone else." She winked and gave the two boys a smirk. Harry guessed that Cassandra was feeling better, although she was still a bit weak from her misfortune with the Macedalion earlier that day. Suddenly, she saw the bag containing the Mood Drops that Ron had dropped. "What's that?" she asked.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Ron and I brought you Mood Drops," said Harry. He pulled the box out and said, "We already picked out the bad ones for you."

"There's _no such thing_ as a bad Mood Drop," Cassandra said darkly. She then said in a toneless manner, "Thanks for the thought, though. Who made you come and visit me? I bet Dumbledore asked you to see how I'm doing--"

"We decided to come. No one pushed us," said Harry.

Ron whispered in Harry's ear, "You mean nobody pushed _you_. When do we get out of here, Harry?" He didn't look too happy to be in here with Cassandra. "I'm a little creeped out."

"Go whenever you like, Ron," Harry said curtly. Ron nodded and walked off, obviously not wanting to stay in the infirmary. Harry sighed and said, "I'm sorry about that. I just thought you might like some company."

Cassandra heaved a melancholy sigh and said flatly, "Thanks for the thought." She then pulled out her black book and started writing again.

"Cassandra, I want to know something," Harry blurted out. "Why don't you like other people?"

Harry's green eyes met Cassandra's dark ones, and he didn't like the way that she was looking at him. She appeared to be pretty upset about that question. "I lost my best friend when I was ten, and his memory still tortures me today; I can still see Christopher at times. I'm antisocial now because past experiences with my fellow students have discouraged me from making new friendships, and for other reasons I most certainly won't tell you. Would you like to know about one of these anecdotes, Potter? One of my several failed attempts at making friends?"

"Sure," Harry said quickly. He wasn't sure what he was about to get himself into, and he was sure this wasn't going to be a cheerful story. Cassandra emphasized that she would not be exaggerating, and even swallowed several white Mood Drops to further prove her point. Eating that many was about the equivalent of swallowing a teaspoon of mulled Veritaserum...there was no way you could eat that many white Mood Drops and tell a lie or stretch a truth. "Go on, I'm listening, and I promise I won't tell anyone what I hear."

"Good," Cassandra said icily. She popped her knuckles and began to tell Harry a rather depressing tale, one that was partially responsible for why she dismissed the very idea of friendship. "To begin this, I guess I'll have to start when I was first sorted into Slytherin. I'm not going to tell you about my early childhood, that's a private matter that I loathe to discuss or even think about, or about my family life. I was placed in Slytherin the same year you were placed in Gryffindor, because I already had quite a passion for learning curses and the like. The Sorting Hat seemed to think that I would be quite successful in there, with my sharp interest--actually, _unhealthy obsession_ is much closer to the actual truth--in the Dark Arts. It was when I first sat down at the Slytherin table that I had an encounter with Damien Fallowin--"

"Fallowin!" Harry exclaimed in shock. "Like _Rick_ Fallowin?"

"Damien is Rick's older brother. He graduated two years ago; he was a Fourth Year when I met him. Potter, please don't interrupt this; it's important, if you want to know why I stay away from people." Cassandra looked rather tired, but determined to tell Harry this little flashback. "Then again, my mum sent me a Pensieve for Christmas last year, and it's right over there on that table. The memory's in there, trust me." She let out a big yawn and then collapsed into her pillows. "You have no idea how drowsy I am. You have my permission to view that memory in my Pensieve...just let me get some rest."

Harry nodded and left Cassandra alone to sleep and recover. After all, he was way more interested in her thoughts and her past than Cassandra as a person. '_She's got me all curious now_.' He saw the Pensieve sitting on a nearby table, just as Cassandra had told him. Next to it was the pile of books and Cassandra's glasses, but it was still so dim in here that Harry couldn't read the titles. The Pensieve, however, was casting off a warm, green glow...

He plunged his head in and felt himself drop into the echo of Cassandra Snape's memory, the reason she was afraid to make friendships. His feet hit the floor of the Great Hall, and he saw that the Sorting Ceremony had just finished taken place. He gazed around and saw several familiar faces, including his own, five years younger, looking in awe at the castle. There was Hermione, at the Gryffindor table, reading a book. Harry laughed, knowing little Hermione was oblivious to how happy she was in the present, and then turned to see little Ron next to his own younger self. Harry rushed toward the Ravenclaw table and saw a cedar-haired girl with big teal eyes that had to be Isis Acheron, whom he had just met in Professor Lewn's class recently. He saw Celia Wells right next to her, shaking hands with a Second Year version of Cho Chang. Harry then turned to look at the Hufflepuff table and saw Josh Goldman, talking to his upperclassmen as if they were his life-long friends. Harry heard a laugh at that table, and saw (and this made his heart wrench) a Fourth Year version of his late friend Cedric Diggory, welcoming Josh with a warm embrace and a handshake. That left one other table, and seeing as this was Cassandra's memory, Harry walked over toward the Slytherin table. He saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle next to each other, snickering about something. '_He looked like such a little sissy boy then!'_ Harry thought, and gave a rather satisfied laugh.

Harry let his eyes gaze up and down the Slytherin table, and then stopped to see Marcus Cantarus, talking to a Seventh Year, a couple of Fourth Years, five Second Years, and a girl that just had to be Pansy. Harry recognized the girl's pudgy, pug-like face and the terrible green sweater. '_She still wears one that looks just as awful on her_,' he thought with viciousness. Suddenly, he found the person he had been scanning the table for.

And there was Cassandra Snape, looking just as sickly as she did in the present. Her skin was pale as paper, and her raven hair still pulled into a loose braid. The little girl sitting there was looking around her table, satisfied with where the Sorting Hat had put her. '_She looked pretty cute when she was eleven_,' Harry thought, confused. '_What happened to her?'_ Suddenly, he saw Cassandra walk off with the rest of her House to the Slytherin dormitories. However, she was allowed to stay in the Common Room, instead of heading up to bed in the girls' dormitories. Harry saw the little girl sit down, cozily landing into a comfortable chair bound in black leather. He saw her pull out a little diary and heard her mutter what she was writing as she set the quill to action. "First Day, 1991--Up to date, I have made no new friends. I didn't really think I'd meet someone on the train or in Diagon Alley. That only happens with the kids that have parents to take them places. I had to go by myself because Uncle Severus was too busy to shop with me, as were Mum and Dad. I had a hard time finding a seat on the train, so I ended up sitting with Professor Quirrell. He's nice, but a little on the weird side. The Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin. Mum, Dad, Aunt Priscilla, and Uncle Severus all were in Slytherin, so maybe I'll end up like one of them. I hope--"

"What are you doing, sitting all by yourself?" a smooth voice said. Cassandra jumped and faced the fourteen-year-old that had disturbed her. Harry saw what this boy looked like (tall, gangly, prominent nose & ears, and a rather large Adam's apple) and gasped. This fellow looked a lot like his friend Rick Fallowin! "Don't you want to see who's your roommate like everyone else?" Cassandra didn't look up until she closed and hid her diary. The boy said, "Made any friends yet?" Harry watched as Cassandra shook her head shyly. "Want to be my friend?" he heard the boy that looked like Rick say, "My name's Damien Fallowin, and I'm a Fourth Year. What's your name?"

"Cassandra Snape. Nice to meet you, Damien!" Cassandra said sweetly. Harry could see in those dark eyes that the little girl was absolutely delighted to have made friends with such a popular upperclassman. This just **couldn't **be the same Cassandra!

"Can I call you Cassie?" said Damien. Cassandra nodded. "Well, Cassie, a few other friends of mine are going to be meeting me tomorrow in the Forbidden Forest--"

"But, that's forbidden!" Harry looked at the eleven-year-old and saw a look of sheer terror etched on that pale little face. Cassandra's glasses slipped down her nose and her big eyes were wide open. "I can't go in there!"

"Why? Are you scared?" Damien taunted. "If you can't handle going to the Forbidden Forest, Cassie, I guess I always could leave you--"

"I'll go," Cassandra blurted, her cheeks turning a pale rose color. Harry could tell that she was just trying to look tough in front of this older student, trying to make Damien like her and not think she was a coward. "When?"

"My friends and I were thinking about tomorrow night; think you can make it?"

"I know I can!" Cassandra squeaked as she fixed her glasses. " I'll be there."

"Good," said Damien. "I guess I'll see you later, then...Cassie." Harry heard the boy snigger once he was out of earshot of the eleven-year-old. He saw Cassandra put up her diary and rush off toward the Slytherin girls' dormitories to find out who her roommate was. Harry didn't go up there to see who Cassandra had been stuck with for a roommate, and saw the memory jump to the next day. He followed eleven-year-old Cassandra to all her classes and he was shocked to realize that he was in all of the same classes as her, including Potions, History of Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts among others. He watched as she always took a seat in the back row, in the shadows. It seemed as if bright sunlight was hurting her eyes, because Harry saw Cassandra put on a pair of very dark sunglasses in every classroom that had windows that poured in a lot of light.

Harry soon realized that none of the teachers even bothered to look at the little girl. She just sat there quietly, taking notes like a good (and boring) student would have done. '_No wonder I never realized she was here; nobody ever called out her name and she's like a chameleon with shadows. You'd never know that Snape had a niece the way she blends in so silently_.' Harry heard Snape's first-day-in-class speech toward him, where he had been embarrassed in front of his classmates, and noticed Cassandra was given no attention whatsoever in there. It was even more surprising to see that her work was perfectly done, but none of the students seemed to realize there was a shy little girl, who seemed relatively friendly, among them. The classes came to an end, and so did dinner. Harry saw the little girl look left, then right, then right behind her. Cassandra double checked to see if anyone was looking around her, and then scurried off toward the Forbidden Forest, where she was planning on meeting Damien Fallowin and his friends. Harry knew this route, and saw two shadows approaching Hagrid's hut. He peeked over there quickly, and then realized it was nobody but his younger self with younger Ron. He rushed over to see where Cassandra was heading, and saw she had met up with Damien.

"So, you finally showed up, Cassie," Damien said. He pointed at the large blonde boy next to him. "This is Matt Macnair," Damien then pointed at a rather mousy-looking boy at his left, "and this is Jerry O'Tara, my best friend."

The two boys looked at Cassandra and said, "hi," and then Jerry said, "Are we still going in there, Damien?" Harry noticed that both Jerry and Matt had rather unpleasant smiles on their faces, and this got him a bit nervous. Damien nodded, and had the same grin on his face. He looked behind him and saw Cassandra looked paler than usual, and her face had no color whatsoever. The little girl was obviously frightened.

"We sure are!" Damien said. He faced Cassandra and said, "Okay, Cassie. I'll tell you what we're up to, and how you can help us out. We're going to try to find out why Dumbledore said this place was off limits. You coming or not?"

'_She won't do it,'_ thought Harry. '_Cassandra's too smart to fall for something like this. She wouldn't try to impress anyone.'_ But then he remembered, this memory was the reason that Cassandra became antisocial in the first place. All of a sudden, a horrible thought came to his mind..._she was different when she was eleven_. Harry watched with horror as Cassandra said shakily, "I'm ready to go in there."

Damien patted her on the back and said, "I knew I could count on you!" He looked at Matt and then Jerry and said quickly. "Okay, Cassie. You go first."

"Me?" Cassandra squeaked, her eyes wide open. "Why me?"

"Are you scared?" Jerry asked. He had that unpleasant smile on his face again.

"NO!" Cassandra snarled. Harry saw little splashes of crimson appear on the girl's cheeks; her glasses slipped again. "I'll go, then." Harry couldn't believe this had actually happened; the next thing he saw was Cassandra enter the Forbidden Forest by herself. Harry wanted to follow the little girl, since this was her memory, but he stayed behind for a bit to see what the three boys were saying about this ordeal.

"Well, I think that's the last we'll be seeing of _her_," said Damien, laughing.

"Oh look!" said Jerry. "She left her bookbag behind. Let's see what all she's got in here...there might be something interesting!"

"Like what?" asked Matt. "What could a First Year baby like that have that could possibly be interesting to mature gentlemen like us, Jerry?"

Harry was absolutely disgusted to see that Jerry was snooping through Cassandra's belongings, but at the same time, Harry was a little curious to see what items she would have in her bookbag. Some of the items Jerry pulled out were typical student paraphernalia, like textbooks, extra quills, parchment, candy, et cetera. However, Jerry pulled out that little black book Harry had seen Cassandra writing in when she had been in the Slytherin Common Room the night before. "Maybe this will be amusing, gentlemen. I have found a diary among the sniveling squirt's possessions!"

"Let me see!" Matt said as he yanked the little book out of Jerry's freckled hand. "I know a couple of people who would think this very funny--"

All of a sudden, a piercing scream came from the Forbidden Forest. Harry rushed over to where the shriek had come from, but he heard what Damien said when he had heard the same sound. "Let's get out of here before someone catches us!"

"What about Cassie?" Matt asked.

"Not our problem, Macnair! Run for it!" Jerry screamed, pulling Matt.

'_I can't believe it. They lured her here and left her_!' Harry was absolutely sickened at what these three had done to a sweet little girl who had done them no wrong. He plunged deep into the forest, trying to find where the terrible scream had come from. After searching for nearly ten minutes, Harry found Cassandra being choked to death by a serpentine creature. It looked like all the life had been squeezed out of her tiny little body, and her lips were slightly turning blue, further proving suffocation would probably be her demise. Harry didn't want to see this happen. He tried to lunge at the creature, but he went right through it. _"Avada Kedavra!"_ someone shouted. All of a sudden, Harry turned to see an albino man in sapphire blue robes with a fancy crescent moon pattern on them; none other than Professor Ahsimal. The Necromancy teacher had put the dreaded Death Curse on the monster...it fell limp and died immediately. "Cassandra, are you all right?"

Ahsimal shook the little girl until she regained consciousness. "Cassandra?"

"I'm okay," the little girl said weakly. Harry looked to see the color was returning to Cassandra's pale little face. She looked all right, but a little upset. "They didn't follow my lead, did they?"

"Who didn't follow you, Cassandra?" Ahsimal said, his mauve eyes blazing with fury. Harry remembered with shock that Ahsimal would later on become Cassandra's Hawkbane, and that the Necromancy teacher didn't pick any other Recommended students to sponsor. From the way Ahsimal was talking to Cassandra and holding her close to him protectively, Harry got the feeling that maybe these two had known each other for a very long time.

"Damien, Matt, and Jerry said they'd follow me," Cassandra said weakly. "Why didn't they keep to their word?" Tears leaked from her dark eyes as she cried on Ahsimal's shoulder. "They said they were my friends! I can't believe they tricked me!"

"Would a friend do that?" Ahsimal said, but that made Cassandra stay quiet. The teacher picked up the little student and carried her out of the Forbidden Forest back to the castle. "Just rest and recover. I'm going to tell your uncle what just happened."

Harry's eyes were misty when he saw the spots on the little girl's neck where the creature had constricted itself in its almost successful attempt to strangle her to death. Her glasses were broken (so was her nose) and her eyes were wet with tears. The neat, clean robes she had been wearing were filthy and in tatters, and there were bruises all over her body. Harry looked down and saw Cassandra was missing a shoe. He followed her up to her dormitory and saw her cry herself to sleep.

Morning came, and Cassandra was walking down the hall, carrying her bookbag, which she had gotten back, and wearing a new pair of black ankle boots with her brand new black robes. Her glasses were repaired, and Madame Pomfrey had fixed her nose. The bruises were still there, but Cassandra looked rather cautious; her eyes were darting from one corner to the next, as if she was expecting something or someone to appear out of nowhere and attack her for surviving that little encounter in the Forbidden Forest the previous night.

Harry followed her, and watched himself screw up a potion in Snape's class with Ron's help. Cassandra was in the hall, and then immediately stopped. Harry soon found out why. He heard two very familiar voices saying, "_First Day, 1991--Up to date, I have made no new friends. I didn't really think I'd meet someone on the train or in Diagon Alley_. Isn't this juicy, ladies and gentlemen?" Harry saw two people reading out loud Cassandra's journal to a crowd of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins. He was surprised to see that the speakers were not Matt Macnair, Jerry O'Tara, or Damien Fallowin, but none other than Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older brothers. With horror, Harry saw them turn the pages and read them aloud.

"Listen to this! _That only happens with the kids that have parents to take them places. Dad locked Mum up so she couldn't go out to Diagon Alley with me, and I had to go by myself because Uncle Severus was too busy to shop with me._ How pathetic _is_ this kid, anyway?" There were several roars of laughter in the crowd. Harry could even recognize several of these faces as people he knew. He saw Cho Chang giggling with her friends, and Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle snickering at the idea that these were the private thoughts of an unhappy individual. Harry clenched his fists with rage.

"Here's some more...oh! This little part mentions our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! I wonder how he'd feel if he knew that some Slytherin First Year put him in her journal! _I had a hard time finding a seat on the train, so I ended up sitting with Professor Quirrell. He's nice, but a little weird._ This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? Want to know how we know this belongs to a Slytherin girl? This explains all! The Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin. _Mum, Dad, and Severus all were in Slytherin, so maybe I'll end up like one of them. I hope maybe I will be able to do something that will be greatly remembered, and have a friend to share that glory with._ Well, no wonder this kid's so funny; she doesn't have any friends!"

There was another roar of laughter from nearly a hundred people who were listening to Fred and George. Harry recognized one person in the group that he never would forgive for being in that crowd of merciless brutes..._himself_. There he was, a First Year, standing next to Ron, both of them laughing along with Dean and Seamus. Neville was there, too, but he wasn't laughing. He was holding his hands over his ears and was shaking his head.

"This is wrong, you guys," Harry heard Neville say. "Ron, let's go tell your brothers to give that poor girl her diary back. Nobody deserves to be treated like this.

"

"Stand up to Fred and George?" Ron squeaked. "No way am I going to do that!"

"Okay, then," Neville said in a disappointed voice. "Harry, will you help me save the diary's owner from more embarrassment?"

Harry couldn't believe he had uttered these words that came out of his younger self's mouth. "You've got to be joking, Neville. This is too much fun to stop!" His jaw dropped, appalled at how awful he had been to someone he had never thought he had ever encountered before. Here he was, trying to make friends with Cassandra, and there he was, five years ago, laughing with Ron and his other companions at the very person he was trying to befriend in the present.

"Who wants to hear more? This next part is about little Cassie's secret crush on--"

Harry didn't get to hear who Cassandra had liked when she was eleven. An icy cold hand grabbed his neck and pulled his head out of the Pensieve before George finished his sentence. He turned around to face a pair of piercing, dark eyes. These appeared to be full of anger and fury. "What were you doing, Potter? Those are the private thoughts of my niece, damn you!" Snape snarled, his cold hands still tight around Harry's neck.

"She gave me permission, Professor," Harry choked out the words as quickly as he could. "Right before she went to sleep." He looked to see Cassandra was flinching in her sleep, and clutching her covers as tightly as she could manage without making the veins in her hands burst from too much tension.

"Do you realize that she fell asleep half an hour ago? What were you looking at?"

"If you put me down, I'll tell you," said Harry. Snape obliged this request and Harry felt his feet touch the linoleum floor once more. "Cassandra was going to tell me about Damien Fallowin, but she got too tired. Since she wanted to go rest, she gave me permission to view that memory in her Pensieve. I promise you that she said I could."

Snape didn't argue with Harry. He just walked over toward Cassandra and said, "I think I know why she was attempting to perform the Macedalion, and I feel rather guilty about it. She was trying to do that technique to make me proud of her. She's been like this since her friend Christopher died six years ago. You could _never _understand what she's been through, Potter. I took Cassandra in when she was three."

"Her parents died like mine, didn't they?" Harry asked. "That's horrible."

"No, my brother Claudius and his wife, Lydia, are still alive. Lydia wanted to keep her daughter, but Claudius couldn't take care of a child like Cassandra, so they left her with me. Sure, they visit her often, and write to her every day, but Claudius is still afraid of her."

"What's so different about her?" Harry said, curious. "She looks pretty harmless to me." His eyes widened and he asked, "Is she a Death Eater?"

"No," Snape hissed. "She knows quite a bit about the Dark Arts, but she wouldn't dabble about with _that_ crowd. I made sure that I discouraged her of trying to do so ages ago. I told her about my days in there, and she shows no interest or desire to join…that I know of."

"Well, that's good to know," Harry said, relieved. He looked over toward the infirmary bed to see Cassandra's bare left arm. He checked to see if she had the Dark Mark...he found nothing but a tattoo of a seven-point star with some sort of weird insignia in the center. "Do you know why she stays away from everyone and refuses to make friends?"

Snape nodded. "People don't usually accept her kind."

"Her _kind_?" Harry asked. "What do you mean? Is she that _different_ from other people?"

Snape rolled his eyes and said, "There's no point in me telling you. Figure it out on your own and exercise your brain for once, Potter. It could do you no harm."

"Severus!" a voice boomed. Suddenly, Nezura rushed into the room and said, "I _saw_ you trying to strangle Harry. Explain your reason, and trust me, this better be a good one or I'll make sure you're sacked for good!"

"He was spying on the private past of my niece, Mitzi," Snape growled, and then gave Nezura a sinister glare. "Were you snooping on me?" he asked accusingly.

Nezura blanched and her nose twitched like a rabbit's. "Er...of course not! I was just passing by and saw you choking Harry over there." She pointed at where the Pensieve was, and then faced Harry. "Did Professor Snape hurt you, Harry?"

Harry wanted to say _yes_ so he would never have to face the detestable man again, but he remembered that Snape was part of the Order of the Phoenix now, and was on his side...sort of. However, Harry would never forgive him for egging on poor Sirius to his death last summer in a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries. '_I'd be teaching him a lesson if I made him lose his job_,' Harry thought with vicious pleasure...then the pleasure faded. He would be losing an ally if he said _yes_. "No," Harry said after thinking about this. "He wasn't too thrilled that I was looking in Cassandra's Pensieve, and thought that I hadn't gotten permission to view before plunging in. That's all."

"Oh," said Nezura, her cheeks turning crimson from embarrassment. "Okay, Harry. If you say that's what happened, I'll hold you to your word." She then gave Severus a very unfriendly look. "I know you killed Lupin; your fingerprints were found on the body...what other proof do I need to put you in Azkaban?" Harry saw Snape's face turn white. Nezura stood on tiptoe and looked him in the eye. "Severus, I'm keeping my eyes on you. Don't you forget it!" She then thundered down the hall. Harry heard her shout, "Hey, Hagrid! Just the person I wanted to see! My griffin eggs just hatched, and I don't know what to feed the babies. Do you have any ideas?"

Harry laughed. He really liked Nezura and was glad she was watching out for him. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a rather complicated course this year, but Nezura was very enthusiastic about the entire subject. It was the petite little teacher's passionate ways that had made the class interesting this year. '_She's almost on a par with Lupin,'_ Harry thought with pleasure. '_I saved her neck once, so now she's determined to save mine.' _Suddenly, Harry realized Snape was giving him a piercing look. "What?" Harry said. '_I just saved your ass, you ugly git. What do you want now?'_

"Nothing," Snape said coldly, and then walked off. Harry looked to see he had left another book on Cassandra's little table, and that spiky mirror Harry had seen in Nezura's store in Occasion Alley. It looked a lot like the one Parenein had been staring at blankly in Alchemy. He picked it up, curious as to see what he would find staring back at him. Harry glanced into the mirror, and his heart skipped a beat in shock.

It was not his face staring back at him in that mirror, but the wasted, skull-like, once-handsome face of Sirius Black, his dead godfather. Harry almost dropped the mirror in surprise when the figure spoke to him. "Hi, Harry. Did you miss me?"

'_This can't be happening...I found a way to talk to Sirius!'_ "Sirius, is that you?"

"Damn right it's me, Harry." Sirius smiled and bark-laughed. "Are you doing all right without me?"

Harry nodded. "I've wanted so badly to talk to you and see your face again, Sirius. Life isn't the same without you there to look out for me. Do _you_ miss _me_?" His eyes were leaking tears. "Did you really die?"

"Yeah," Sirius said. "I'm just as dead as your mum and dad, and Remus joined me about a month ago. We're all worried about you, Harry...can you take care of yourself with us being dead and everything?"

"Sirius, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you again. I miss you so much," Harry said. His voice was beginning to crack and his face was very wet from tears.

"Harry, don't trust anyone you barely know, okay?" another voice said. Sirius made way for another person to talk to Harry...Lupin. "That's why I'm here with Sirius now. Some fellow in a tie-dye shirt came up to me, asking if I could help him, and the next thing I know, he turns into Snape and starts mauling me without stopping, drinking my blood as I slowly succumb to the never-ceasing pain. I think Severus is a vampire, so be careful. Harry, that was the worst moment of my life. I never knew pain like that was possible. Being attacked in that matter makes the Crucatius Curse look like mere child's play. Heed my words and trust nobody like that!"

Suddenly, Cassandra started making stirring noises. Harry grabbed the handle of the mirror, put it in his sack and placed a normal mirror in its spot. He was sure Cassandra wouldn't mind, or even notice, that he would be using this magic mirror to talk to Sirius. Besides, who would Cassandra talk to through that mirror besides that dead friend Snape had mentioned...Christopher? Harry rushed out of the infirmary as fast as he could, praying that Cassandra woke up after he had already retreated to the Gryffindor Tower, not a moment sooner.

"You stole this from _Cassandra_!" Ron exclaimed, astonished that Harry would first of all steal something, but steal from someone who hadn't been nasty to him yet, even if the girl _was_ Professor Snape's eccentric niece. "Don't you think she'll realize you're the thief, Harry?"

"Not for a while," Harry said. "A lot of people came in there to see how she was doing after I left. Besides, I plan on giving this back to her in a little bit. I'll ask Parenein if I can use his. I'm sure he won't object to letting me, as long as I take good care of it and return it when I'm done." He looked over his shoulder, hoping Cassandra didn't see him. He didn't have the guts to talk to her after what he'd done. He couldn't look at her pallid face without thinking of the sad little eleven-year-old girl who had been laughed at in front of the entire school. He also couldn't even say 'hello' without thinking that she might be aware that her mirror was gone.

"Hey, wait up for me!" said Celia, almost out of breath from rushing to catch up with the two boys. Hermione was with her. "Harry, you look upset. What's eating you?"

"Oh, nothing," Harry lied. He didn't want Celia worrying about him, and he didn't want Hermione to harp about how cruel it was to steal from an ailing person. "I'm just a little nervous about my Hawkbane meeting with Snitchgrass later, seeing as it _is_ Saturday and I'm supposed to meet her for a couple of hours."

"Good luck!" Celia said. "I've heard that Snitchgrass is stricter than McGonagall!" She had her bag right behind her, and she had something sticking out of it that Harry thought looked like a laptop computer.

"We can't use Muggle items like that here! They don't work!" Hermione said to Celia, who didn't seem bothered by this.

"It works," she said, beaming. "Watch this!" She turned it on by flicking her wand. "Wake up, already! I need you to show these three what you're made of!" The computer turned on instantly, and booted like a normal one would. It only took a few seconds for the desktop to set up, and then the computer started to play its welcome music. Celia opened a program entitled "Hogwarts Student ver. 76.0" and showed off a program she had created that organized a schedule, and had every textbook word-for-word in the references. There were small biographies on every teacher, and descriptions of every student Celia knew. There was a section that was devoted to everything about Quidditch, and another about the Ministry of Magic. Practically, everything a clever Hogwarts student needed to know was in the "Hogwarts Student ver. 76.0" program. Celia had even installed digital wizard's chess, Quidditch, and gobstones on there, as well as fun games that could prepare a student for a test or quiz in any class they were taking.

"I've gotten a lot of help from Gramps, and that's how I got all the information in here. Harry, I've even got the full account about your little misadventure with Professor Quirrell when you were eleven...and that was top secret information about the Philosopher's Stone, right? I've also got stuff on Lockhart, when you encountered Sirius Black, when you saw Cedric get killed by Voldemort, when you saw Sirius die. You know, stuff like that."

Harry's jaw dropped. So did Ron's, and so did Hermione's. Celia's eyes were wide open with a look of utter confusion on her face. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, you goofball!" a smooth voice said calmly. Harry and the others turned around to see who had called Celia a goofball. "Sorry I'm late, guys. Malfoy stopped me in the hall and wouldn't let me pass until I helped him with his homework."

"You need to stop doing that, Atticus!" Ron said. "You and Josh both!"

Atticus nodded in agreement, but Josh (who had been walking beside the paralyzed boy) laughed. "It's no big deal, Ron...it was Clairvoyancy. You know how good I am in that class. I'm taking to it like a duck to water! Why shouldn't I be nice and help those less intelligent?" Josh laughed again, and everyone joined in, except for Celia.

"Still, you two have got to stop doing that. Someone might be taking advantage of you if you're always willing to tutor students like Malfoy. He's such a little--"

"He's such a little what?" another voice interrupted. Harry groaned; it was Malfoy...the person he least wanted to talk to right now. "Go on, Wells. What were you going to call me?"

"Spoiled brat," Celia said sharply. "You always get what you want and don't even have to work for it. Someone should teach you a lesson."

"Now, don't go off on him like that," said Harry. "He can't help that he's a nasty git."

"We should pity him rather than piss him off. Right, Harry?" said Ron, beaming. He pulled the Ziploc bag out and pulled out a couple of Mood Drops. "Let's give him a peace offering, shall we?" Harry caught on quickly to this and gave Ron the thumbs up. "Well, Malfoy, would you like a Mood Drop or four?"

"Sure would, Weasley! I didn't know you had the money to buy these...they're probably worth more than your house." Malfoy popped the pink Drops in his mouth, and swallowed them. Suddenly, he started acting weird...and funny. His cheeks turned pink and he giggled girlishly. "You know, Potter...you've got really sexy eyes!" he said out in the open before hugging Harry. "I haven't realized until now that you're such a stud!"

Harry wasn't expecting this, and was grossed out by Malfoy's queer behavior. "Ron," he managed to say through tight lips (trying to dodge Malfoy's kisses). "What color did you give him?"

"Pink," said Ron. Then his face turned red. "Uh oh...sorry, Harry, that was Romance and Passion." Ron smiled and then began to laugh. "Well, it looks funny, and we can blackmail him later, of course..."

"Get him _off_ me!" Harry spat, and then Draco's lips were on his. This was absolutely disgusting, and Harry could have sworn he'd felt a tongue. He pushed with all his might to get the blonde boy off of him, but Draco was just too strong. _Strange_, thought Harry. _I always assumed he was a sissy_. "Ron, get him off me!"

All of a sudden, Harry heard a click and saw a flash of light. He then heard some laughs that weren't coming from Hermione, Celia, Atticus, Ron, or Josh. He could see his friends all had appalled looks on their faces, and so did Marcus and Rick, who were standing right next to Atticus and Celia gaping and pointing at Draco. One of the laughs was deeper and sounded much more mature, and another was very silky and feminine. The third laugh was rather gender-neutral...it was way too low to be female, but too high to possibly be male. After Draco moved on to kissing Harry's neck, Harry could see who the three spectators had been. The gender-neutral voice had belonged to Professor Ebonyste, who was still girlishly giggling and pointing at the two Sixth Years. "Oh, that is _priceless_! When did you two start going out, Potter?"

"It's unofficial, Professor!" Draco chirped, his voice rather sweetly-coated. It was clear to Harry that he hadn't just eaten _one_, but _four_ pink Mood Drops. Neither Ron nor Harry had any idea as to counteract multiple Mood Drop consumption. "Take a picture of us!"

"That won't be necessary, Malfoy," said the owner of the female voice, a seductive blue-eyed blonde in sparkling magenta robes. Harry realized with agony that Lewn had accompanied Ebonyste. Her freshly painted fingernails were gently tapping a button on a camera, and she was smiling at Harry, showing off her red lips and perfect teeth. "I've already used up a whole roll of film on the happy couple." She walked over and put a silky hand on Harry's shoulder and said calmly, "It's okay to like boys, Harry. I do too, and I'm a ninety-something-year-old woman. You've got good taste; Malfoy's pretty cute."

"I'm _not_ like that!" Harry growled at Lewn. "Malfoy's under the influence of something. Maybe he took a love potion!"

"Those aren't allowed on campus, silly!" said Lewn. She then whispered in his ear, "It's all right...you can give me all the details if you want."

"Claire, you idiot! If Harry's gay, your little charms won't work on him," said Ebonyste. "Leave the lover-boys alone, and let them do their own thing." Harry saw a smile curl up on the half-fairy's lips, and one of his pointy ears was twitching each time the teacher laughed. Clearly, Ebonyste thought this was pretty funny. Harry didn't.

"Thanks, Professor Ebonyste!" said Draco, and then liplocked Harry again. He then got an angry look on his face and said, "What's wrong, Potter? Am I not good enough for you or something or do you prefer Wesley?"

Harry looked behind him to see Lewn had left and given Ebonyste her camera. The teacher was still watching him, and had started to chant a really obnoxious song. "Harry and Draco, sitting in a tree...K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes--"

"Oh, shut up!" Ron hissed at Ebonyste. "Malfoy ate some pink Mood Drops, that's all. There's nothing going on between him and Harry!"

"Really?" Ebonyste said, realizing that there clearly was no authentic romance going on between the two boys. He then started taking even more pictures with Lewn's camera. "Then I can use these as blackmail on either one if they piss me off! Sweet!" It seemed as if Ebonyste was taking snapshots at the speed of light, because he went through five rolls of film in about two minutes time. The high-pitched giggling continued, until the deeper voice re-entered. "Adonis, put the camera down." Harry saw Professor Cyanis coming toward him, his blood red robes flowing, and his scarlet eye was staring straight at him, while the pure white one...Harry couldn't tell where that eye was looking, or whether it could see at all.

Harry then felt warm, garlic-tainted breath on his cheek. "So, Malfoy's not your boyfriend?" Cyanis said teasingly, his scarlet eye glittering with excitement of some sort. His mouth was curled up into a smile that would have been charming, had his teeth not all been sharp at the ends. It was absolutely monstrous.

Harry had never met the Hypnosis teacher before, but he could tell that he was a revolting fellow, or at least a rather cruel one. "NO!" Harry shouted. "Get him off me, Professor!"

"Sure," Cyanis said calmly as he pulled Draco off of Harry. He then looked into Draco's eyes and started to laugh. "Don't worry, Potter. I'll deal with your little fanboy personally." Cyanis waved his wand at Draco and said, _"Scyllis Minemata."_ Draco lost the lovesick look in his eyes and got a wasted expression on his face as he fell into a heap on the floor. He didn't look better...he looked dead. Cyanis started walking off gracefully.

Harry stopped Cyanis, angered at what the teacher had done. "You killed him!"

"And _you_ miss him? No, I didn't," Cyanis said in his jeering, unnaturally calm voice. "That was a cure-all spell that Professor Skylarke showed me at a summer seminar he was holding. It is highly effective and will cure anything...except death." His smile showed off all of those needle-sharp teeth. "Only a very skilled Necromancer can cure that one. Why would I kill Draco when he's one of my favorite and most successful students?"

"Good point argued, Professor," Hermione said. "Then you just knocked Malfoy into a state of unconsciousness?"

Cyanis nodded and then said, "I'm trying to get bright minds to sign up for my class. Hypnotism can help some people, and it gives those with strong wills a chance to manipulate others. What say you, students? Care to join me in Room 667 sometime?"

"Hypnosis? Are you kidding?" Ron said. "It'd be pretty cool if we could put our enemies in trances and make them do what we want. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Before Harry could answer, Rick and Marcus rushed over toward Draco. "Cain, will he be all right?" Marcus asked. Harry thought he sounded very concerned. '_He's allowed to call Cyanis 'Cain' too? I guess Cyanis likes to be called by his first name.'_

"He fainted from my cure-all, and that's about it," Cyanis said calmly. He turned toward Rick and said, "Fallowin, I can tell something's bothering you. What's wrong?"

Rick sighed and then answered the teacher. "Draco's not going to be too thrilled once he realizes what he did to Harry. Nobody's going to look at him in the same light, except Marcus and me. Professors Lewn and Ebonyste took tons of pictures of this little misunderstanding. Whoever it was that gave Draco those pink Mood Drops must be pretty satisfied with the damage they've caused his reputation." Ron and Harry looked at each other and smiled...it was a success!

"Well, I've got a meeting with McGonagall, Nezura, and Sprout that I need to attend," said Cyanis. He didn't sound so smooth this time...he sounded rushed. He forced out a fake laugh and then ran away from the students as fast as he could.

"Well, he seems like a creep, doesn't he, Harry?" Celia said. She popped a Mood Drop in her mouth.

"After seeing what happened to Malfoy, you _still_ want to eat those?" Ron said, astonished that Celia could be so brave.

"Anyone would have acted like that if they overdosed on the pink ones. I only try to eat those if I'm going on a date or unless it's Valentines Day. Besides, I eat Mood Drops because Dr. McCallisten, my healer, prescribed them to me ages ago." Celia looked pretty smug about this. "Dr. McCallisten's pretty cool, and his son, Sam, has Professor Leir for a Hawkbane. He was in that Clairvoyancy group with Malfoy...y'know, the guy with the really big Adam's apple that didn't know his stuff and told her to call on Rick?"

"I can't believe someone actually _prescribed_ Mood Drops!" Hermione said. "I mean, they're effective enough, but they're _candy_ for Merlin's sake!"

"I've got to eat a tangerine one before I study, but I should only eat one of those a day. One time I got really tired, and a big test was coming up, so I ate five of them. It was hilarious! I couldn't sleep for two weeks! Also, I can't eat more than two violet mood drops a day, because one time I overate on those and instead of remembering everything, they made me lose my memory and it took three weeks of therapy to get me out of the trance." Celia closed her little anecdote with, "I'm so glad that my medicine doesn't taste bad or make me feel sleepy. I must have the world's coolest healer at St. Mungo's. Sam's lucky to have Thaddeus McCallisten for a dad...he's the best."

Harry's first Saturday back at Hogwarts passed by slowly, until seven o' clock...the time where he would get to actually _meet_ Lucinda Snitchgrass, his Hawkbane, personally. He hadn't taken her course in Advanced Astrology yet; he'd start that next week with the others. This was the first time he would be able to have a long conversation with the teacher and get to know her better. In the back of his mind, Harry was a little curious about whether or not Snitchgrass would be trying to hide her thick accent while they were having their Saturday meeting. He walked up toward Turret Twelve, and looked at the room the Advanced Astrology teacher had to teach in. The room had glass walls everywhere, and (even though it was fading daylight outside) the night sky could clearly be seen out of the walls and ceiling, a cloudless dusk with the stars gleaming unnaturally bright. There was a large collection of windchimes surrounding Snitchgrass's willow desk, painted white with a fancy insignia on it. There was luxurious white carpet on the floor, and a small lamp that looked like an angel was peering beside Snitchgrass's chair. The students would not be able to sit in desks, because there were none. There were neck pillows on the floor and clipboards. Obviously, Snitchgrass would want them to lie down and look at the stars to predict what was going on in their futures. There was only one picture in the room, and it was of a handsome young man dancing with a pretty girl. Harry thought the young man looked very familiar, and he could only assume that the girl had been Snitchgrass when she had been younger.

"So, you vinally showed up, 'Arry. Shall ve begin?" Harry nodded, and then Snitchgrass said, "Good. Now, vhat do you vant to talk about?"

"Er," Harry said, caught unaware. "I'm really not sure. What can I expect when I come into your class Tuesday?"

"Virst day, I review vhat you should 'ave learned in Divination already, and zen I move on to more important stuff. Anything else you vant to talk about, 'Arry? We've got another fifty-four minutes." Snitchgrass cleared her throat and then said, "Vould I be easier to understand if I vas to conceal my accent?"

"If that isn't too much trouble," Harry said. He really didn't know what to make of this. He was not used to having friendly chat sessions with unfamiliar teachers, whether the teacher was a Hawkbane or not.

"Okay," Snitchgrass said, trying really hard to drop the accent as best she could. She poured some sort of orange liquid down her throat and her accent changed to one that didn't sound quite as funny...and was much easier to understand. "Well, that settles that little issue, doesn't it, Harry? By the way, you don't need to be formal to me, since I'm your Hawkbane. You can call me Lucinda, or even Lucy, if you want to. You don't see me calling you Master Potter, now do you?" Snitchgrass smiled, showing off her perfectly clean dentures. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Sure," Harry said, accepting the rosehip tea from Snitchgrass. He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable in here, and (to top it all off) his scar was beginning to hurt.

"Something's bothering you; the stars have told me. According to the program, you are supposed to trust me as you would a parent or guardian. You should feel comfortable confiding in me, and I you. What is troubling your mind?"

The moonlight cast a really eerie glow on Snitchgrass's face, making her face look a bit grim and sunken. The scars on her face were more noticeable than ever. Harry thought that Snitchgrass looked as if she had seen hard times in the past. He almost wished he was a Legilimens and could read her mind. "What's disturbing your psyche?"

"Er," Harry said. "People who are close to me are dying. First it was my mum and dad, and then Cedric, and then Sirius, and then Lupin...when will it end? You're a skilled Astrologer, aren't you? Can't you tell me?" He didn't want to be nice to Snitchgrass right now. He wanted the woman to give him some words of comfort…or leave him alone.

"It will end when, and only when, you or the Dark Lord dies, never to return to the World of the Living. Murder or be murdered, Harry...those are your two choices." Snitchgrass's pale aqua eyes looked into Harry's green ones. She then said, with a bit of her accent returning, "There is no escaping destiny. Run all you vant from it, but in the end, fate vill get you. It gets everyone...and there is no place to hide vhere it von't find you."

The woman then held her icy hand up to her face and said tonelessly, "It is up to you completely whether you or the Dark Lord is the one to hold the scythe of Death. Who vill za Grim Reaper favor?" She then yawned and said, "Vi don't ve see vat else is wrong? I can tell you stuff about other people that vill make your flesh crawl. There is someone on your mind, and I can tell, Harry. Who is it?"

"I thought you were supposed to help, not pry," Harry said, expecting the teacher to back off. Snitchgrass did the opposite. She got closer and asked again who Harry was thinking about. "I want to know who killed Lupin! Happy now?"

Snitchgrass nodded and smiled. "The murderer is right here...in Hogwarts. I can also tell you all the evidence points to the Potions Master. He's definitely the guilty party." She then looked at her watch and sighed. "Vell, I'll see you Tuesday, Harry. I've got to meet Furrier and Lewn about something semi-important." She handed Harry a small box and said, "I hope you like Siren's Sweets. I got you a Luminescence bar. They're supposed to glow for hours once you lick them. Remember, if you need me, I'm usually here in Turret Twelve."

"Professor Parenein is an old _pervert_!" Hermione groaned, putting down her glass of water. "He didn't even pay Marcus any attention because he was either looking at Lisa, Ella, and me, or that bloody mirror he can't seem to pry himself away from. We didn't even talk about Alchemy!"

"Isis, Josh, and I were spared from sharing an hour with Pansy and Lewn," said Ron. "She canceled this week's Hawkbane meeting when Cassandra screwed up with that Macedalion thing, and I have to say that it was good to have a day where there was no homework or project to work on." He sighed. "Isn't it great that Hawkbanes don't give out much homework? The only stuff I needed to do was read about Syria for Foreign Magic with Ebonyste." He ate some of his pasta. "That pointy-eared git is really beginning to piss me off."

"Is this done yet?" Rick muttered, poking at his roast. "It's still red on the inside, and it's a little cold." He then looked up and said, "Well, um...Atticus and Celia went with me to Furrier's room. We met the other student Professor Furrier was sponsoring. Her name was Morag MacDougal, and she's nothing but a cocky chick that cheats on her tests."

"That sounds like someone else I know," Harry said teasingly. "How's Malloy?"

"Why would you care?" Marcus said, his mouth filled with part of his baked potato. "I thought you and Draco hated each other." He didn't look too happy.

Harry laughed. "Well, we're on the same side this year, so I guess I can tolerate him...as long as he never kisses me again." Marcus shot Ron a dirty look, because he knew that Ron had been the one that had given Draco the pink Mood Drops in the first place. "Hey, Marcus, I didn't mean that I thought Malfoy would do it again. I know he was sort of in a trance due to the Drops...but it still wasn't nice to be kissed by another guy."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Rick. "You looked pretty happy in one of those pictures, Harry. You're just lucky that _Pansy _took that photo, and not Lisa Turpin. Lisa's a gossip, and it would have been all over the school by now if she'd been the photographer." Rick took a bite out of his roast (which had finally become medium-rare) and showed Harry and the others the picture. "You owe me four Galleons for saving your reputation, Harry. Pansy sold me the picture, and it didn't come cheap, either."

Harry fished four gold coins out of his pocket and handed them to Rick. "Here you are. Thanks for doing me that favor, Rick."

Rick smiled as he put the gold coins in his pocket. "What are friends for, anyway?"

Celia walked toward the Fourth Year and hugged him. "That was a noble thing to do, Rick. I'm proud of you for getting that photo out of Pansy's clutches."

"Dude, you rock!" said Josh, giving Rick a thumbs up.

Harry could tell that Rick was enjoying all of this attention. The younger Slytherin was looking around the crowd, smiling shyly and getting extra desserts from his friends. Ron had given Rick a whole bag of lime-green Mood Drops and a couple of chocolate frogs. Hermione gave Rick a licorice rope, and Celia gave him a pat on the back. Isis gave him a kiss on the cheek and said she thought that was a cool way to save a friend. Harry rolled his eyes. Rick was getting more attention for rescuing an embarrassing picture than Harry had gotten for postponing Voldemort's return to power. Harry found this unfair, but he was still glad Rick had been noble enough to try to save his reputation. He knew that he and Rick weren't the best of friends, but Harry was rather thankful that the picture hadn't landed in Lisa Turpin's hands. That would have been bad.

"Hey, Celia?" Josh said. "Can I talk to you for a minute alone?"

"Sure!" Celia said, grabbing Josh's hand. "Let's go." The Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw both looked rather happy about something. As they walked off, they held hands.

Harry noticed that Ron was sadly looking at Celia and Josh, who were laughing about something. "What's wrong, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Promise not to laugh?"

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I promise. What's bothering you?"

"I like Celia, okay?" Ron blurted. "I think she's gorgeous, and she's so cool, too. I don't know how to tell her, though. What if she laughs at me? What if she likes Josh or Atticus...or you? Can you give me any advice, Harry?"

"Sorry, Ron, but I can't," Harry said. "Remember when I blew it with Cho last year? I doubt you'd want something like that to happen with Celia."

"I'll ask Josh for advice, then," said Ron. "Girls like him, and he never seems to get them mad. I'll just have to make sure I don't tell him I like Celia. See you later, Harry."

"Okay," Harry said as he watched Ron catch up with Marcus, Isis, and Atticus. Harry wondered why he hadn't met all these new friends of his earlier. The past five years, it had just been him, Ron, and Hermione. Now, he had Atticus, Marcus, Rick, Isis, Josh, and Celia to hang out with as well. His crowd had tripled in size, but Harry liked the feeling of being part of a bigger group. He felt even more secure now that there were nine, instead of three. It would only be a matter of time before he and the others would be breaking some rules to figure out what was going on with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and how they could prepare themselves for what was inevitably approaching.

Harry started walking toward the Gryffindor Tower, but then he felt someone tap his shoulder. "Harry," Rick said. "I'm not quite ready to retire for the night. Can I tag along with you for a while?"

"Sure," Harry said. He wanted to talk to Rick about something anyway, so having him tag along wouldn't be so bad.

"I guess we haven't taken the time to get to know each other that well," Rick started, "and Draco told me you really didn't like Slytherins. However, here you are, friends with Marcus and me, so I guess Draco was wrong. I was wondering, Harry...what all can you do that Mr. V can?"

"_Who?_" Harry asked, confused. "Who's Mr. V?"

"Oh," Rick stopped, and his cheeks turned a bit red. "My mum calls V-Voldemort 'Mr. V.' It's a habit of mine to call him that...sorry. Draco said you're a Parselmouth. Is that true?" When Harry nodded, Rick gasped. "So is my dad!" Rick then cleared his throat and held out his large, bony hand. "I hope there's no hard feelings between us, Harry. I'd like to continue being friends, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine by me," Harry replied, shaking hands with Rick. "You're a good guy to have around in a tight fix, aren't you?"

Rick smiled shyly and said, "I never thought I'd be friends with Harry Potter..."

Suddenly, Rick and Harry bumped into Lisa Turpin, and a whole swarm of girls. "Hey, Fallowin!" she jeered. "I heard you had a piece of juicy gossip hidden in your bookbag! What is it? A picture of your boyfriend?"

"I'm not gay, Lisa," Rick said flatly. "Don't confuse me with you."

"My word," said Lisa. "That is the biggest, ugliest mole I've ever seen, Fallowin. I almost feel sorry for your face."

"Can it, Turpin," said Harry.

"Wait! I wrote a song about Fallowin! Can we sing it, pretty please?" Lisa said, smiling.

"No!" Rick shouted.

"I'll do it anyway..." Lisa started, and her little friends joined in:

_Ricky, pluck your mole_

_Ricky, pluck your mole_

_It's big and hairy_

_and TOTALLY scary!_

_So, Ricky pluck your mole..._

_PLEASE!_

Rick looked like he wanted to crawl into a corner and die. "That wasn't necessary!" Harry snarled, angry at the girls for picking on Rick, who had never offended anyone...as far as Harry knew. Lisa Turpin, however, did not listen to this and sang another round of the song. Her little friends joined in unison. "I thought I told you to _stop it_!" Harry finally got fed up enough to punch Lisa in the face. It silenced her, no doubt about it, and the feeling Harry got from hitting her was indescribable. There was no way he could explain the rush of adrenaline he got once his fist became one with Lisa's pointy nose. "Now, shut up and apologize!"

Lisa whimpered and rushed off with her friends. "Oh, my nose..."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked Rick, who was looking in a mirror sadly...trying to hide his mole in vain. "Rick?"

"Er," Rick said. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for sticking up for me, Harry. I guess we're even now." He then sighed and said, "Well, I think I should start heading toward the Slytherin Tower before someone realizes that I'm not there. See you tomorrow!"

Harry waved goodbye to his younger friend and sighed. This had been a hectic Saturday. He didn't know what to think of Snitchgrass, and he was beginning to see some rather serious flaws in his new friends...as well as his new teachers. The Hawkbanes he had met so far (Snitchgrass, Lewn, and Parenein) all were rather amoral people. Parenein was a pervert, Snitchgrass had a really funny accent, and Lewn was a shallow individual who seemed to have cotton candy for brains. There was a lot going on so far, and Harry had no idea what was making his scar hurt so badly. '_I bet Voldemort's up to something.'_

Monday, Harry would take Animagery and Manipulations for the first time. He couldn't wait to see what Professors Furrier and Leir acted like. One was only five years older than Harry, and the other was a cat Animagus. The only one he was worried about was Ahsimal, because the Necromancy professor was rumored to be a true evil that preyed upon people at random...what if everything was true?


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

A Disaster in Turret Seven

After a nice break over the weekend, Harry was ready to head toward Professor Furrier's classroom. He was rather excited about this particular class for several reasons. One of them was the thought that if he did well, he might graduate as an Animagus like his father or Sirius. There were other reasons he wanted to see what Skip Furrier was like, and he could scarcely believe that Dumbledore would have hired an actual calico cat to _teach_. Celia and Josh had asked Harry if he wanted to walk to class with them, and then Ron, Hermione, and Isis asked the same thing. Harry shook his head...he wanted to go by himself today. He didn't know why, but he didn't want his usual friends following him in the hall. He wanted to see what it was like to be isolated...to be completely without friends. _How does it feel to have nobody to confide in or talk to?_ Harry looked around and saw that Cassandra was walking separate from everyone, like she normally did. He waved, but she didn't seem to notice him. Maybe she didn't see him. After all, her nose was stuck in a book and she seemed to be writing something as she walked; she looked very busy.

Suddenly, she looked up and saw Harry. "Hey, wait up, Harry," she said. "I need to ask you something...it's very important and can't wait until later."

Harry stopped immediately and turned around. He expected to see a look of anger or displeasure of some sort on the girl's face. He saw neither...Cassandra looked distressed. "Remember a couple of days ago when I was in the infirmary?"

"Yeah, you looked awful," Harry said quickly. "Glad to see you're up and about." He was a little worried about what Cassandra would say next. '_Don't let her say she has a crush on me...don't let her say she thinks I'm cute...Malfoy was bad enough...'_

"Severus said he left a mirror of mine in there, but when I woke up, I saw that the one in there wasn't mine. The one I lost was pewter, spikes all over the frame, and had a fancy handle. It was rather macelike." She took a deep breath and sighed. "I was wondering if you've seen it anywhere? That mirror is very important to me, you understand."

"Do you think _I've_ got it or something?" Harry hissed. '_She knows I took it. Just return it, Harry, and tell Cassandra you're sorry_...' "Well, _do you_?"

Cassandra shook her head. "I hadn't even considered you as a suspect." She then raised an eyebrow and said with a slightly curious note, "_Did_ you take it, by any chance?" She didn't sound venomous or accusing, but slightly worried, if anything.

Harry looked at Cassandra and could see that losing that mirror was really bothering her. There was a complete aura of worry around her sallow face. '_Just give it back, Harry, and tell her you're sorry. Give it back_...' "I don't think so," Harry said. He felt guilty when he said it, and to stop the guilt from building up, he tried to think about what the mirror could do for him. '_It's the only way I'll ever get to talk to Sirius again_._ I need it a lot more than she does.'_

"Oh, well sorry for accusing you, Harry," Cassandra said sadly. "If you find it, please let me know." She paused to take another deep breath. "I really have no idea why anyone would steal that mirror," Cassandra said as she walked off. Harry, on the other hand, thought Cassandra knew better. Judging by how she had said that last bit, he was absolutely sure that the girl knew perfectly well what the mirror was capable of doing.

"There you are!" Ron said. "Harry, why didn't you want to walk with us earlier?"

"I wanted to talk to someone in private," Harry snapped. "Can't I have some privacy for a change, sometime? You're the second person today that's gone off interrogating me...let me have some peace and quiet for a change!"

"Sorry," Ron said, backing off. "I was just wondering if you were feeling all right. No need to get your feathers in a bunch."

Harry shrugged and took his seat. The desks were ferruginous and had a fancy pattern of mythical creatures, like the gorgons, cast into the iron. The seats were cushioned with yellow velvet pillows that had a Romanesque flower design on them. They looked as though a professional (or a very skilled house elf) had stitched each one by hand, because no two patterns were exactly alike. There was one window, and it was a stained glass image of a pretty girl in a red dress. On the wall was a portrait of a bespectacled man that looked like he was ready to make a few new friends. He was in his thirties, well-dressed, and had a little bit of muscle emphasized from his tight tunic. Around his neck was a scarf with a mandala on it, and he was playing a violin elegantly. He was wearing spectacles over his amber eyes, and he had the strangest hair Harry had ever seen on a person. The man had his hair cut a little longer than most guys (it was down to his chin and neatly combed out of his face), but it was the color (rather, colors) of the hair that made it unusual. In some places, it was black, in others it was red, and some other spots were colored like a tabby cat or eggshell white. It looked like his hair belonged on a long-haired calico cat instead of on a person. Right below the portrait was Professor Furrier, asleep in his little cat bed. He had his little spectacles on, and the yellow scarf with the mandala on it was still tied neatly around his neck.

Harry looked at the cat, then at the charming wizard in the portrait, and then at the cat again. He guessed that the portrait was Skip Furrier's true form...after all, Furrier had to be an Animagus himself.

"Please, take your seat," Furrier muttered. He had woken up all of a sudden and realized that his classroom was filled with his eighteen students. "I guess this is everyone?" Furrier said. "In that case, I hope you all enjoy Animagery with me. I plan on leading all of you down this difficult path, so that some of you will pass and become Animagi. Remember, that if you manage to do so, you're going to have to register with the Ministry of Magic. I already did so, and look what happened to me. I became a teacher...and Teacher of the Year for 1996, I am proud to say!"

The cat raised a fluffy arm and pointed at the portrait. "That's what I _really_ look like. My real name is Alexander Furrier, but everyone just calls me Skip, since that has been my nickname since I was really little. I don't want you to call me 'Skip'; call me 'Alexander' or 'Alex.' When we have other teachers or visitors in here, please refer to me as 'Professor Furrier.' It sounds more formal."

"If you're really a man, _Skip_," said Hermione. "Then why did you introduce yourself as a cat at the Welcoming Feast? And how come you're _still_ a cat?"

"The first reason I'm a cat is because the younger students love animals and will give me stuff." Furrier held up a catnip ball. "I got this from a sweet little First Year Hufflepuff earlier today, as well as a gourmet bag of ocean-whitefish kitty treats. As a person, I would never eat these, but as a cat I really enjoy them. I like the attention."

He paused and then said, "The second reason I stay a calico cat all the time is because I have no other choice. I'm stuck this way at the moment, and no matter how hard I try, I can't change back into a human. Someone cursed me, and I've waited _patiently_ for the hex to wear off. I haven't been able to change back to my true form or play my precious violin since 1991, when the spell was cast on me." He stopped, and then let out a meow before continuing. "Take my word for it, class...being stuck like this really sucks."

"Who put that nasty curse on you?" Celia said. "Who could be that cruel!"

Furrier quit licking his foot and then said angrily, "I suspect all of you had Professor Quirrell about half a decade ago in Defense Against the Dark Arts, am I correct?"

Everyone gasped. "But, didn't Quirrell die?" said Ron. "Did he hex you, or was it You-Know-Who _making him_ do it?"

"Since Quirrell was my best friend since we were both students here, I think the latter is much more likely--" Furrier stopped what he was saying immediately. The cat's tail then fluffed up and started to swish back and forth in an irritable way. He cast Ron a suspicious look and said in a dangerously soft voice. "You mean to tell me that he was _possessed_? Do you _know something_ I don't, Weasley?" When Ron nodded, Furrier groaned, "That explains everything perfectly..." he muttered, and then turned back to his students.

"Well, since I've cleared up that stuff about me, what about you guys? Are there any in here that are determined to leave this class as Animagi, no matter what?" A couple of hands were raised, Harry's included. Then Furrier said jokingly, "Are there any in here that _are_ Animagi?" Three hands were raised besides Furrier's. One was Celia's, another was Lisa Turpin's, and the third belonged to Cassandra Snape, who was sitting silently in the shadows of the class. _Why does she always do that?_

"Wow! I've only had one college student who managed to do that before I taught him how, and now I have three girls who can do this...and how old are each of you?" Cassandra and Lisa admitted to being Sixth Years, but Celia confessed that she was a Seventh Year. "Splendid!" Furrier cheered, clapping his paws together. "Would it be too much of me to ask each of you to tell the class what you can shift into?" The girls agreed to this, and then Furrier said, "Excellent, ladies! I'll give ten points each to your houses for doing this, as well as a homework pass. I'll start with you, Celia, since I'm your Hawkbanes."

Celia walked up to the front of the class and said, "Okay, I am a licensed Animagus, and you can tell it's me because one of my eyes is always blue, while the other's always green." She rubbed Furrier behind the ears and then sat back down, in between Josh and Isis. Harry noticed that Ron was turning a bit rosy in the cheeks and he was staring at Celia when she wasn't looking.

"Wonderful, Celia! Ten points will be added to Ravenclaw for that!" Furrier let out a purr and then said, "Cassandra, will you come forward and tell everyone what you can change into?"

"I'd rather not go in front of the class, so could I please stay at my desk?" Cassandra said so quietly that only a few people in the back could hear her.

"Oh," Furrier said, disappointed. "Sure, go ahead."

"I am a licensed Animagus," Cassandra said. "But, unlike Miss Wells, you'll never know if that animal's me or not...until it's too late." She stuck her face back in her book.

"Ten points will be added to Slytherin for that statement," Furrier said. "Lisa, dear, will you please tell everyone what you can change into?"

"Well," Lisa said, "I can change into a ladybug, but my mum and dad haven't taken me to get my license yet." Harry looked at Lisa, and noticed with pleasure that her nose was bandaged up where he had given her a punch. _Serves her right for taunting Rick_. "Is that okay, Professor?"

"You need to get licensed as soon as possible, Turpin. You could be facing some serious charges if someone reports you to the Ministry before you register," Furrier didn't seem to find this funny. His tail was very frizzed up, and it was swishing violently. He hopped up on top of his desk and then said, "Ten points to Ravenclaw, like I promised." He then outstretched his fluffy arms again and said, "Let's set down the rules, shall we?"

The cat picked up his wand and swished its end at the blackboard. "_Epitarum_," he said calmly as the words appeared on the board. "I trust all of you can read."

There will be no spells in my class without my authorization.

Any rule-breakers will end up in detention. I will be the judge of exceptions, not you.

Practical jokes should be played properly on your Potions, Curses & Rootwork, Foreign Magic, and Necromancy teachers...not on me.

_Never_ mention Professor Quirrell in here…unless I talk trash about him first!

I dismiss class, not the bell. I can hold you in here as long as my little heart desires.

Never settle for anything lower than your best in here. Your Hawkbane and I are expecting nothing short of excellence with you Advanced Placement students.

If you know how to get this hex off of me...come to my office immediately!

My four Sponsored students will meet me at 10:30 A.M. each Saturday unless I say different.

I do not care if you are part of any extracurriculars. If I give you homework or an assignment, I expect you to do it, and put some effort into it!

Detention students will be scraping gum off desks and if I run out in here, then I am sure that I can find some other teachers that will allow you to scrape it off theirs.

I require constant care, and I have some special needs because I'm stuck in this cat body at present. My constant detention students will not scrape gum. I promote them to cleaning my hatbox.

Anything you got from Professor Parenein should be left outside the door. Vulgar material, like _Playboys_, will be thrown in the trash immediately, and the person found with that garbage will be doing a week's worth of detentions.

I will select unwilling people for hairball duty, if I cough one up. Do your homework properly and participate in class as best you can, and this will never happen to you.

To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is a _death wish_.

While you're in here, I'm responsible for you, and vice versa. Please follow my directions and ask me before you try out a "new idea." People have died in this course before, you know. Mwahahahaha!

Oh, by the way…have a nice day. :)

"I hope those weren't too long," Furrier said as everyone gradually stopped looking at the blackboard. "How about I introduce you to Animagery today?" There were some cheers from the students, and Furrier purred, showing that this excitement was really making him happy. "First off, I don't expect all of you to become Animagi...it is a hard thing to accomplish, and you may have to take my evening course before dinner on Fridays if you're having trouble in here. However, I want you to first of all do your best in here, because I will not settle for unsatisfactory performances...I can tell when you put effort into what you're doing. The second thing I want is for all of you to really learn this material while enjoying yourselves. I want Animagery to spark an interest in some of you. The third thing I would like all of you to do is be careful in here...there are some dangerous subjects I'm going to have to cover. If you think I'll give you a better grade if you bring me stuff, you're sadly mistaken. I'll just add some points to your house or just count it as a point of extra credit. I do not tolerate brown-nosing."

The teacher started walking around the classroom on his four padded feet, gracefully jumping from desk to desk, just so he could see his students up close and ask them a few questions each. When he got to Harry, he asked, "So...you're Harry Potter?" Harry nodded and Furrier then asked another question, "You knew an Animagus, didn't you?" The cat jumped on Harry's shoulder and whispered, "Sirius Black?"

"How do you know about that?" Harry whispered suspiciously.

"I knew Sirius," Furrier said smoothly. "He liked to chase me up trees whenever he got the chance, and he did that for years...until he landed in Azkaban." Furrier then rubbed his furry, warm body on Harry's arm, leaving cat hair on the sleeve of his robe. "If you ever want to talk to me about Sirius or the Marauders, I can be found in here most of the time. I know more than you think." Furrier then jumped off of Harry and hopped onto Rick's desk. "I take it that you're Rick Fallowin?"

"Yes," Rick said in a submissive voice Harry had gotten quite used to hearing the boy use when he was feeling uncomfortable.

"Ah, yes..." said Furrier, before taking a deep breath. "I taught your brother Damien last year when he took my college course. He failed miserably, but you're a Hawkbane. I expect a lot better from Damien Fallowin's much more mature younger brother. Don't you have a sister named Meredith?"

"_Half_ sister," Rick answered so softly that barely anyone heard him. "Meredith is my half sister."

"Oh, I see," Furrier trailed off and then jumped right back into his conversation with Rick, who looked like he was ready for Furrier to move on to someone else. "If she decides to take this class in the future, can I expect her to work hard on her studies and achieve greatness like I'm sure you will?"

"No," Rick said quickly. "Meredith hates school...and she usually tries to get me to do her homework for her." He sighed and then said, "Damien was bad enough, eh? He's an angel compared to Meredith, but she never gets in trouble. She's the baby in the family, so she could probably get away with _murder_ at home. The three of us are the apples of our parents' eyes...especially Meredith.."

Furrier then sighed and said, "I hate to hear that about your sister--sorry, your half sister--isn't as impressive as you. Why do you think I picked you as the Slytherin I'm supposed to sponsor? It's because I know that you'll be a wonderful Animagus, and I sense some sort of power in you that is just _waiting_ to be unleashed. I see it in you, in Celia, in Atticus, and in Morag. You descend from a very well-respected line of wizards and witches, Rick, and there is always one Fallowin in every generation that doesn't go bad. I seriously hope it's you, because I'm your mentor...but enough of my ramblings! We'll talk more about that subject this coming-up Saturday."

Furrier jumped out of Rick's way and then said, "Students, the Head Hawkbane has asked me to give each of you one of these." The cat had eighteen rolls of parchment, and they had something written on them. "Each roll has been assigned to a particular student. When I give you yours, the first thing you'll see on there is a list of the Turrets. Using particular spells and incantations will manipulate the parchment into doing other things, such as showing off a map of the school, and other interesting things that might come in handy. When you go to Manipulations for your next class, Professor Leir will answer whatever questions you may have about these. I suggest you keep this close to you, because Professor Ahsimal, who's the Head of this program--as well as the Necromancy teacher--said that the parchments would be very useful to you all as the year progresses. I'll now give these out one-by-one and I think it would be wise for each of you to memorize the Fifteen Turrets."

Furrier grabbed one roll of parchment with his teeth and leaped over to Hermione's desk. "Here you go, Granger."

Nearly fifteen minutes passed before Harry got his parchment. One he opened it, it read:

Turret One-- **Alexander "Skip" Furrier**, _Animagery_ (Hawkbanes/Hufflepuff)

Turret Two-- **Claire D. Lewn**, _Clairvoyancy_ (Hawkbanes/Gryffindor)

Turret Three-- **Adonis Ebonyste**, _Foreign Magic_ (Ravenclaw)

Turret Four-- _Summoning Room_ (people with Ahsimal's permission only)

Turret Five-- Condemned and off limits without permission from a teacher

Turret Six-- **Icarus Parenein**, _Alchemy_ (Hawkbanes/Gryffindor)

Turret Seven-- Condemned and off limits without permission from a teacher

Turret Eight-- **Mitzi Nezura**, _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ (Gryffindor)

Turret Nine-- Condemned and off limits without permission from a teacher

Turret Ten—**Persephone Sinistra**, _Astronomy _(Ravenclaw)

Turret Eleven-- **Wolfgang Leir**, _Manipulations_ (Hawkbane/Ravenclaw)

Turret Twelve-- **Lucinda M. Snitchgrass**, _Astrology_ (Hawkbanes/Slytherin)

Turret Thirteen-- **Darius C. Ahsimal**, _Necromancy_ (Hawkbanes)

Turret Fourteen-- **Cain Cyanis**, _Hypnosis_ (Slytherin)

Turret Fifteen-- **Mortimer Skylarke**, _Curses & Rootwork_ (Slytherin)

These rooms are off limits, the two main reasons being:

_1. Recently, people have died in those two rooms...one of which was Remus J. Lupin._

_2. We have reason to believe something dangerous may still be in there._

"Well, what do you think of that?" Harry said to himself, putting the parchment in his bookbag. He would try his best to have this memorized by the end of the week. He was almost positive that the Hawkbanes (if not some other teacher) would quiz everyone on the Turret Location Chart by Friday, which was only four days away.

The bell rang before Professor Furrier could cover any of his subject. "Write a one-and-a-half foot essay on what creature you think you'll be able to shift into, and why you feel that way. Extra credit will be given for those that use smaller handwriting and do a good job. I will take away points for sloppy and unorganized work. Have a nice day, and I'll see you Wednesday."

"Furrier's pretty cool, isn't he?" Ron said as the group left Turret One and started to head toward Turret Eleven. "What do you think you'll be able to shift into, Josh?"

Josh sighed and said, "A wallaby. Not that I want to be able to do that, but with my luck, I'll be stuck with something just as worthless."

"Could be worse," Harry said, and then teasingly sneered, "what about a skunk?"

"That sounds more like Malfoy than Josh to me," Hermione said. "Because his personality and arrogance really stinks."

"Here, here!" Celia said, joining in. "Wasn't my Hawkbane the _cutest_?"

"No way!" Isis said. "Have you taken a look at the _Manipulations_ teacher yet? Leir's hotter than hell, and I bet even Hermione will fall in love with him at first sight!"

"Talking about my Hawkbane, Acheron?" said a jeering voice. Everyone turned around to see Draco Malfoy with Rick and Marcus behind him.

"Hi everyone," said Rick. "Want to walk together to Manipulations?"

"Aw..._Rick_!" said Draco, obviously unhappy by the boy's hospitality toward the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuff. "Did you _really_ have to say that!" When Rick nodded and said he most certainly did, Draco rolled his silver eyes in frustration. "That's the last thing I want right now; to walk with Potter, Weasley, and Granger..."

"Why?" said Josh. "Afraid you'll accidentally eat another pink Mood Drop?"

Draco's cheeks turned red and he growled at the Hufflepuff. "Shut up, Goldman."

Josh, however, was nowhere near finished teasing the Slytherin. "Why do you want me to do that? You don't need Mood Drops to tell Harry how you really feel about him, now do you?" He wouldn't stop laughing, and the guffaws soon changed to sickeningly high-pitched giggles. Celia, who had been laughing with Josh earlier, stopped and watched as her best friend started giggling in a rather feminine way.

"Josh?" she said, a little worried. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Uh, yeah," said Josh. "Never better, Celia." He then pulled a piece of cake out of what seemed to be nowhere. "Learned that trick from my dad. He's a Muggle, but he's a stage magician and knows a couple of pretty cool tricks. I thought they'd come in handy." Everyone clapped, except Harry. His scar was throbbing with pain, as it had been doing for quite a while. It hurt whenever he was around Snitchgrass, Lewn, or Parenein...but Harry had no idea why. So far, the only Hawkbane he had encountered that hadn't made the pain strengthen had been Furrier. Considering this, Harry's expectations for Professors Leir and Ahsimal were not looking too good right now. The outlook was beginning to look quite dim.

"Are you okay over there, Harry?" Atticus asked, taking a look at Harry (who was wincing). He looked worried and sounded concerned. "Harry!"

"I'm _fine_!" Harry said curtly. He didn't want all of these interruptions...all he desired right now was some peace and quiet away from everyone. The old scar hurt terribly, and Harry really wanted to know what (or who) was making him suffer. If he could get away from his friends, perhaps he could get a little break from the increasing pain. Harry tried his best to not sound irritable, and said through clenched teeth, "I want to walk to Manipulations class by myself." With that, he started heading toward Turret Eleven without even Ron following behind him.

Harry kept walking, and soon realized that he had gotten a bit lost. The silence in the halls was strange...Harry had never known the corridors at Hogwarts to be this quiet before. There wasn't a student in sight, and he saw only closed, locked doors down the long hallway. He didn't stop, but looked around him. He noticed that one door was barely open, and a ghastly silver light was seeping through the creases.

Suddenly, Harry heard someone in there say, "The gorgonix has been defeated, Mortius." Harry gasped. '_Mortius was the name of the other Death Eater that attacked us on the Hogwarts Express'_...he said he'd disguised himself as a teacher! He couldn't help but feel that he had heard that voice before. It sounded extremely familiar, but he just couldn't figure out where he'd heard it...

"Do you want to clarify that, Adonis?" Mortius hissed in his ominous voice Harry recognized instantly. That was the same voice that had betrayed Necro, who had been on his side. This was the man that had been so clever as to plan ahead of time to shut down the lights, so nobody could have seen his face. Harry pulled out his Turret Chart that Furrier had given him and looked under Turret Three. '_Adonis is Ebonyste's first name!'_ Harry thought with a sickening sense of recognition. "How can you be so confident it's gone? I think you're losing it, my friend."

"You're probably right, as usual...maybe I am going insane..." Ebonyste whimpered. "But can you help me with my little problem? I'm begging for your mercy!"

"Save your groveling for the Dark Lord, not me," said Mortius. Harry thought he heard a trace of irritability in his voice, as well as a small bit of fear. "Are you still with us, Adonis, or did you become a coward like Necro and those other traitors?"

"I quit a long time ago, Mortius!" Ebonyste said defiantly. Harry heard the tearing of cloth and then heard his Foreign Magic teacher say, "I cut the Dark Mark out of my flesh...you can see the knife wounds for yourself! I will never be a Death Eater again!" Then his voice wavered and whined, "Please don't hurt me!"

"I never could go against you, Adonis," Mortius said. "I'll tell the others that you can no longer be with us, and when the matter reaches my Master, I'll stand up on your behalf, because I still view you as my colleague. You and I, we've always been closer than friends, right? You'd never betray me, and I would never betray you."

"Right..." Ebonyste muttered so softly Harry could barely hear him. "Mortius, you really need to keep a low profile, before someone realizes what you're up to. It's hard pretending to be a Hogwarts professor. What items do you need for that particular ritual?"

"The mirror of Macedethe, vampire's elixir, the blood of a Shadow, a tear from Dumbledore or one of his descendants (actually, the spellbook said the one of the line that your Master fears the most, but that could mean a number of things), water from the Fountain of Youth, part of the soul of my Master's arch nemesis, and, of course, yours truly will have to offer his life to complete this ritual," Mortius said, his voice rather shaky. "To tell the truth, I'm terrified. I don't know why the Dark Lord wants another gorgonix...maybe he'll be kind and let me live as its host, because I sure as Hell won't be getting to remain any other way once the process is complete."

"Well, how can I help?" Ebonyste said. "I'm worried about you, Mortis!"

"You can help," Mortius said venomously, "by luring Shadow, Snape, and Potter to me, so I can fulfill my duties to my Master." There was a very awkward silence, and then Mortius said, "Don't they take Foreign Magic with you first thing every Tuesday?"

"Cassandra Snape doesn't; that little wretch took the summer course and got her credit then so she could work harder in Necromancy or something just as outrageous. It'll be hard to get her over here. She takes your class too, right?" Ebonyste said. "She does, doesn't she?"

"On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Adonis...but I see her every day. She seems to know I'm up to something that involves her. Potter and Shadow do too, but they'd never suspect the person that I'm pretending to be. She never stays longer than she has to and she keeps her distance from me in the halls. I think she's got that so-called 'second sight' or something very much like it...I hate the way she looks at me. Adonis, have you noticed how much those two are alike? Severus and Cassandra Snape are so similar it isn't funny...they're both horrid and miserable people filled with hate. Did you ever ponder about that like I have, day in and day out? The girl's _obviously_ hiding something that might be a lot more dangerous than that little secret we know Severus is trying to hide or deny. Don't worry, Adonis...I'll take care of the Snapes. I've already dealt with Severus."

The wavering had left Mortius's voice, and he was back to sounding arrogant and confident. He had been talking in a similar matter when he had been shouting at Necro on the Hogwarts Express, calling his underling a dunderhead. Harry detested that voice. "You're in charge of getting Shadow and Potter over to my classroom on an evening where it won't look suspicious."

"But--" Ebonyste stopped, sighed, and then muttered, "Yes, sir." Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Harry was staring straight back at his bewildered Foreign Magic teacher. However, Ebonyste didn't look angry...maybe just a bit confused. He probably had no idea that Harry had been eavesdropping on his conversation with Mortius. "What are you doing here, Potter? Shouldn't you be heading to your next class?"

"I got lost on my way to Manipulations," Harry said flatly. "Where's Turret Eleven?"

"Wolfgang Leir, eh?" Ebonyste said lazily. "Well, the entrance to his class is to your left. Take the green marble stairs and then go left again. Can't miss it." He then raised a dark eyebrow and asked, "by the way, Potter, do you know why everyone's so worried these days at Hogwarts?"

"It's that monster," Harry said, and then added, "it's a gorgonix, right?" The look on Ebonyste's face was priceless...his handsome face had turned white and his mouth was wide open as he stood there, gaping. "Is there something wrong, Professor?" Harry asked in a fake-innocent tone that he was sure would irritate the half-fairy even more. He was wrong; it just made Ebonyste look even more terrified.

"How do you know about gorgonixes, Potter?" Ebonyste was absolutely bewildered, and started biting his manicured fingernails. "I'm sure you've read about what they do in the newspaper, but have you actually _encountered_ one, face-to-face? I wouldn't be too surprised--you've been through quite a lot--but they are the spawn of the darkest nightmares...and they feed off of fear and misery."

"They sound a lot like Dementors," Harry muttered, wary of Ebonyste. He wanted the teacher to shut up and let him go on toward Turret Eleven. "Can we continue this conversation sometime when I _don't_ have a Hawkbane course I'm going to be late for?"

Ebonyste's cheeks got a bit rosy, and his right ear twitched a bit. "Oh, okay."

Harry rushed down the halls, taking Ebonyste's directions, and then saw that there were a couple of students walking together toward Leir's room...a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor. He recognized the boy as Quinn Moon, and saw a girl laughing with him. "Oh, we're going to be so late, Quinn! What will Professor Leir say? I mean, I'm sure any of the other teachers wouldn't mind us being late the first day in their class, but Leir's our Hawkbanes..."

"Sally-Anne, relax," Quinn said, and then looked to see that Sally-Anne wasn't the only one a couple of meters from Leir's door. "Hi, Harry! Remember me?"

"Er..." said Harry. "Yeah, Quinn. Nice to see you."

"See? I _told_ you I met Harry Potter, and you didn't believe me!" Quinn whispered loudly to Sally-Anne. "Harry, did you have trouble finding Turret Eleven too?"

Harry nodded. His mind was occupied on something besides Quinn Moon and Sally-Anne Perks's conversation. He walked silently through the green marble doorway and looked inside the Manipulations classroom. He had expected it to be similar to the other Hawkbane classrooms he had already been in, elegant and a bit mysterious. Professor Leir's room was quite different...the walls were covered with posters of wizard and witch celebrities as well as posters of the Alberta Vipers (a professional Canadian Quidditch team) and the Hokkaido Ronins (a professional Japanese Quidditch team). The Ravenclaw coat of arms was handpainted on one of the stone walls, and a Ravenclaw flag was put up behind Leir's desk. There was a wall that was covered in photographs and labels underneath each one. There were no desks; students would have to make due with sofas, recliners, beanbag chairs, and pillows. There were no fancy antiques or delicate-looking pieces of art anywhere; it looked more like an untidy college student's domain than a classroom. There were all sorts of interesting things on Leir's desk, including a box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, a Remembrall, and what looked like a miniature silvery crystal ball.

Professor Leir came in after the bell rang. He was not wearing the school robes, but a pair of faded jeans and a tight, black T-shirt with the Hobgoblins logo on it, showing he was a fan of the rock band. In his ear was that macelike earring, and he had his silvery hair up in spikes. His golden eyes were emphasized by the black eyeliner he was wearing. He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth.

"First off, I want to tell all of you that I will not put up with any acts of insubordination. If you disrespect my authority in here, you get in-school-suspension and I get to have a class period where I won't have to put up with your immature behavior. However, I expect most of you to be well-behaved, and if that is the case, then I am sure you and I will have no problems." He raised his ebony wand and said, "Secondly, I do give off quite a bit of homework. If you pay attention, it will be easy enough to complete. And thirdly, I expect each of you to come in here prepared...and on time. I punish people who take their time coming to my class and miss the bell." Suddenly, a girl rushed in, and she looked quite frightened when she saw the look on Leir's face. "Late, are we? Morag, what did I just _finish_ telling the class?"

"I got lost, Professor!" Morag MacDougal whined.

"Well, that's your headache, not mine," said Leir smoothly as he wrote something down on a green piece of paper. "You'll spend this afternoon doing detention with Snape or Filch, because I'll be too busy to make time for you." The student cast a dirty look at Leir and then grumbled as she took her seat. "Sorry about that scene, class. I hope it never happens again. I don't want any of you to get the idea that I'm a killjoy like some of your older teachers. This is my first year teaching, so I might be a bit tough at times. If you go easy on me, then I'll probably be easier on you. I've seen the way some of the teachers here do their jobs, and I really don't want to be exactly like them. Besides, I was a student here only four years ago, so I think I can still understand what you guys might be going through. I'm not another adult figure, okay? I want to be more like an upperclassman friend, because your big brother or sister might be older than me."

Leir stopped and took a sip of green tea out of a red thermos. "Well, where do we begin? I'm sure some of you have some questions you want to ask me."

"I've got one," Hermione said. "What exactly are we going to be doing in Manipulations? I noticed that we didn't have a textbook for this class."

"A good observation, Hermione!" Leir said in a rather enthusiastic voice. "Manipulations mainly means that we will be guiding changes in nature, people, and items in our possession. That doesn't sound too hard, does it?"

The introductory class went on in a similar way throughout the whole ninety minutes. Harry looked around occasionally to see that most of the girls had their eyes fixated on Leir in one spot or another. When the bell finally rang, Leir had given off the impression that he was not only their teacher, but a young guy with similar interests that was willing to help them out. "Anyone interested in the Hawkbane Quidditch team proposal should meet in Turret Twelve and talk to Professor Snitchgrass as soon as possible. Well, I'll be seeing you!"

"I didn't expect Dumbledore to hire someone that _young_," Ron said. "I remember seeing Professor Leir as Keeper for the Ravenclaw team until we became Third Years, don't you?"

"I think so," Harry said. "Wasn't his hair gray back then too, like it is now?"

"No," said Ron. "I think it used to be brown."

"Wonder how it turned gray?"

"Sure do, Harry, but I have no idea."

Harry shrugged. "Neither do I." He stopped, and then said, "Ron, I heard Ebonyste talking in one of the classrooms, and you're never going to believe what Ebonyste was calling the other person!"

"Something like _my liege_ or _Master_ or _my_ _Lord_?" Ron asked shakily. He gasped and then said, "Do you think Ebonyste is in league with You-Know-Who?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Harry said flatly. "He was talking to Mortis."

Ron gasped again, and he looked pretty shaken. "Wasn't that the Death Eater that sent Necro to kill Nezura on the train?"

"Same Mortius, I'm afraid. He's a teacher here, but I can't figure out which one. He said that he's pretending to be a teacher, but nobody but Cassandra suspects him so far."

Ron got a smug look on his face that Harry recognized immediately...an idea that would be both risky and mischievous had found its way to his friend's mind. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Harry? Let's find out who Cassandra's suspicious of...why don't we pay her a little visit and ask her?"

Harry knew that this would be a good plan, but he really wanted to avoid Cassandra, in case she found out that he had her magic mirror. '_Why don't you just give it back and tell her you're sorry?'_ he thought, but then remembered that he could talk to Sirius as long as he kept that mirror with him. There were so many people close to him that had died...the only person Harry knew that Cassandra had lost had been that childhood friend of hers a year before she had started at Hogwarts. '_She'd have gotten over Christopher by now_,' he thought smugly. '_She doesn't need the mirror like I do. I don't need to feel guilty for taking it. I'll eventually give it back.'_

He then decided it would be a good idea to discourage Ron from his brilliant idea by saying something negative. "Oh, right, Ron...what are we going to say to her? Something like...'hello, Cassandra. How are you? Oh! By the way, we heard you're a little suspicious of one of your teachers. Would it be too much trouble telling us who it is?' What in the name of Merlin do you think she'd say to us if we said _that_? She'd probably think we're a couple of nutters."

"Actually, until you said that, Harry, I thought my idea was a good one." Ron really looked a bit disappointed that his friend hadn't liked his plan. "Well, what about Ebonyste? Anything else I need to know about him?"

Harry looked at Ron and groaned. "Ebonyste was a Death Eater, did you know that? He tore his left sleeve off and showed Mortius where he had removed the Dark Mark."

"How'd he do that?"

"With a knife, I guess," Harry said. "He said he cut it out of his own flesh, and then he said he would never again join the Death Eaters. So, at least Ebonyste is on our side to _some_ extent." He looked at his Turret Map, and saw that he had to make a couple more turns before he reached the entrance to Turret Thirteen for Necromancy with Professor Ahsimal, the last class he would begin this year.

"Do you know which way we're supposed to go to reach Ahsimal's room, Harry?"

"Not a clue, mate," said Harry. He looked about him to see that he and Ron had met a junction in the hallway. One side had a long corridor that had an opening to the outdoors, and the other was a long corridor with so many pillars and entrances that it looked like a labyrinth. It was raining outside very badly, and Harry didn't want to bother with the weather, even though he saw Isis, Celia, and Hermione with their umbrellas walking down the outdoor route, laughing at something. The drier, and much more dangerous-looking, way was beginning to look quite appealing to Harry...it looked like there was a good chance that he and Ron would be facing an adventure if they took that route. "Why don't we go that way?" Harry said, pointing at the long labyrinth of pillars and statues.

"Are you kidding me?" Ron said. "It looks pretty dangerous, and I'm sure the other way leads to Turret Thirteen."

"You'd rather go to class than look down a place we've never been before?" Harry asked curiously. "Come on!" He grabbed Ron by the wrist and rushed over toward the Labyrinth with excitement. The architecture was spectacular, and the statues were so lifelike that it was hard to remember that they had never been alive and had always been stone. There was a tall ceiling with a pattern of stars, moons, and grim creatures of the night carved on it, nearly fifteen feet above Harry's head. The long pedestals were carved down to the very last details, and the place was pristine...not a single cobweb or speck of dust. However, it got darker and darker as the two boys kept walking along. By the time the hallway had looked as if it was being lit by only moonlight, Harry heard footsteps, and he was sure they were too light to be Ron's. "Did you hear that?" Harry whispered.

"Did I hear what?" Ron whispered back. "What was I supposed to hear?"

"Be quiet for a minute," Harry said in Ron's ear. Harry could listen to what he had heard, because Ron obediently shut up. And, as he had thought, there had been a third person in the long labyrinth. Harry heard the footsteps, and then saw a silhouette ahead of them, wearing a hood and carrying something that was glowing bright green. "Who do you think that is?" Harry asked Ron.

"Mortius!" Ron gasped. He looked absolutely terrified.

"Well, let's find out, shall we?" Harry said, pulling something out of his bookbag. "I had the feeling I'd be needing this today, and it seems I was right." He had in his hands his father's Invisibility Cloak. "Let's hop under it!" Harry felt rather relieved to find out that he and Ron both could still fit underneath the cloak without anything sticking out. They walked quietly behind the hooded figure to see where he or she was heading. They passed though the Labyrinth, even when it got to the point where the only light they could see by was the green glow of the object the hooded figure was carrying in its left hand. As they continued, the corridor's statues became even more lifelike...and a lot more gruesome. There was a statue of two Death Eaters torturing a small child that was so real that if he hadn't known any better, Harry would have thought someone had frozen the scene in time for everyone to see the triumph of evil.

Although the statues became even more realistic, they became even more grotesque. There were lots of these, and they just kept getting worse. All of a sudden, the statues and the Labyrinth ended. Harry and Ron entered a smaller hall where clocks laced many bare spots on the smooth marble walls. The hooded figure began to move quicker, and so Harry and Ron both sped up behind their oblivious guide. Suddenly, the person in the hood started walking up a long and winding staircase. There was a notice posted by the Ministry of Magic right in front of it that read:

**Attention!**

Turrets Five, Seven, and Nine are off limits to students and the majority of the Hogwarts faculty because this is a zone under investigation by Auror **Mitzi Katherine Nezura**, sent by Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic to see what was the cause of death for Remus Lupin, Kevin McCallisten, Gabriel Thomas, and Michelle and Audrey Tawny. These turrets are considered to be extremely dangerous and are being watched cautiously with the thought of the students of Hogwarts as our number one priority. For safety reasons, people should not be allowed into these rooms without having authority from an Auror or Exorcist.

-Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic

Harry and Ron watched as the cloaked and hooded figure brushed the sign off and just kept on walking, as if he or she had not even noticed it. They ran up the staircase, trying to catch up. A brass plaque stated that this was Turret Seven, the Aerie. The hooded figure reached out to touch a statue of a lady in a toga, and when he or she removed their hand, Harry saw the statue had begun to bleed. The figure continued on its path until the staircase finally led Harry and Ron to the top of the tower. The gloved hands of the hooded figure opened a very intricate cedar-wood door. Harry and Ron both rushed in as quickly as they could before their unaware guide closed it, hoping not to accidentally bump into this person and blow their cover. It was pitch black in the room until the figure shook whatever-it-was it had been carrying, and made the green glow reappear. The two boys watched cautiously as the figure pulled out a palm-sized crystal, laid it at its feet, and kneeled before one of the pedestals.

"I'm here, Sebastian," said a familiar voice. _"Rigormortium Malidicitus." _Suddenly, out of the ground, the transparent figure of a man with a panflute arose. He was dressed in the Hogwarts school robes, and Harry remembered seeing this man in that picture with Professor Lupin...this was Sebastian Argenteum.

"Glad to see you finally decided to pay me a visit," the entity said with a bit of a Transylvanian accent. "You look troubled, my living friend. What's on your mind?"

"I lost something very important to me," the hooded figure said. "And then...I was attacked today. I've got this spot where he tried to end my life, but if anyone sees it, then my secret is no longer mine to keep...everyone will know what I've been trying to hide..."

"You can show me the wound, can't you, lass?" the transparent figure said. "Take off your hood like a good girl."

"Very well," said the hooded witch. Harry and Ron watched as closely as they could until a sickening realization dawned on both of them...they knew the girl as none other than Cassandra Snape. "Happy now, Sebastian?" she said. There was a dark crimson stain on her heather gray shirt that was slowly getting bigger, and there was a nasty gash on her neck.

Ron gasped in shock. "Shut up," Harry snapped. "She's going to hear us...oh no! I think she spotted us!"

Cassandra had indeed spotted them, and limped over to their location. "What are you two doing spying on me? I thought I told you to never follow me up to Turret Seven when I'm visiting the dead. Not only is it an invasion of my privacy, but both of you are putting your lives in jeopardy! Did you realize that!"

"How are we?" Ron asked curiously. "The only thing in here that scares me is your attitude, missy." He waved his prefect's badge in her face. "Don't lose your temper."

Cassandra scowled at Ron and clenched her fists very tightly. "No, you obviously don't understand. Get out of here before Sebastian--" She cut herself off short and screamed at the top of her lungs in sheer terror. Harry looked behind him and soon joined in with Ron and Cassandra's shrieks. Sebastian Argentum was no longer in the room, but a skeletal figure with rotting flesh stood in his place for a brief second. It then shifted into the form of someone Harry knew only too well...except he was decaying with grave maggots crawling through his hair and skin. The dead ex-Potions Master was no longer in the Aerie, it seemed...Harry saw something that looked a lot like Voldemort in Argentum's place. The corpselike entity raised a dead hand and pulled out a wand covered in cobwebs and maggots. It stood up and grinned grotesquely at the three students.

"This is what happens when you disturb someone communing, Potter!" Cassandra hissed. "A dead soul gets surprised when intruders come along uninvited, and will then become aggressive, choosing the form of something you're afraid to see...now Sebastian's angry with me!" She was running as fast as she could in the room (still limping), trying to find a place where she could pull out her wand without the ghastly being attacking her.

Suddenly, the dead thing grabbed Ron by the leg. Frightened, he screamed, "Harry, help me!" before fainting. His face had lost all color and it was as if his body had gone cold as he fell in a heap to the ground, unconscious and barely breathing.

Harry rushed over to where his friend had fallen. "Ron!" he shouted, terrified. He looked at Cassandra and watched with his mouth hanging wide open. She was being battered about by the entity, and he heard several bones crack when the thing thrashed her brutally against a statue of a phoenix.

She slowly got up on her feet again and waved her wand at the dead soul and shouted, _"Pallacirce!"_ Sebastian returned in the room for a few seconds with a worried look on his face, and then disappeared into thin air. Cassandra then heaved a rather long sigh, fell into a heap, and stayed there, groaning in agony.

"Not you too," Harry groaned. She _picks the worst times to get hurt._ He looked around the room to find a large cabinet filled with different tonics and potions...and to his luck, each was labeled. _This had to be Argentum's old classroom!_ Harry realized with excitement. He finally found a Reviving Tonic among all the different toxins and sleep Potions. He opened the bottle and poured the liquid down Ron's throat.

Ron woke up immediately and spat the rest of it out. "That was nasty, whatever it was! Why'd you go and stick something that tastes like old gym socks in my mouth? What have I ever done to you to deserve that?" He looked around and said, "Harry, is that thing gone yet?" When Harry nodded, Ron's face lit up. "Well, I'm glad that's over with!" He finally noticed that Cassandra's face was heavily bruised, and a couple of bones were protruding through her skin in various places. "What happened to her?"

"She warded the ghost off," Harry said. "I'm never following her up here again...what about you?"

Ron's eyes widened and he nodded as fast as he could. "You're the one that wanted to go in that maze in the first place. I just followed you like I normally do."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of that," he said sharply, "but I can make a mistake just like anyone else. I'm not perfect, you know." There was a lot more that he wanted to say to Ron, but Harry cut himself short. He heard the sound of hurried footsteps and then the door burst open.

The Necromancy master had a look of worry on his face when he came in, but it was soon replaced with a look of confusion and then exasperation when he saw that there actually were _students_ up in Turret Seven. "Potter! Weasley! What are you two doing up here? I thought you knew this place was off limits," the professor laid his eyes on Cassandra and noticed she wasn't moving. He bit his lip tightly and then faced the two Gryffindors. "What did you do to her? Just because Slytherin is your rival house, it still doesn't give you the right to _torture_ a Slytherin student. Explain yourselves this instant!" Ahsimal's mauve eyes weren't glittering, but glowing with an irritable flame. "Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Potter. What happened up here?"

"I got lost on my way to your class, Professor," Harry began. "I was looking for a shortcut where I wouldn't have to go out in the rain, and so Ron and I went down that corridor. We saw Cassandra, but we didn't recognize her, although I admit we did follow her to Turret Seven--"

"So, going off in this restricted area was Cassandra Snape's idea?" Ahsimal asked as he looked about the room. "Interesting..._very_ interesting..." he muttered and then faced the Gryffindors again. He saw Ron's badge and asked, "Aren't you a prefect, Weasley?" When Ron nodded, Ahsimal sighed. "I seriously hope you will be more careful in the future and won't be foolish enough to follow someone you don't recognize without them knowing. Well, what happened next? You two saw Cassandra enter here, and you decided that you'd duel her or something? I want the facts, lads, not lies...and believe me when I say that I will know if you're telling the truth or not." Ahsimal ran his ghostly fingers through his white hair and then said, "Well, go on...tell me the whole story."

Harry took a deep breath, knowing there was no way out of Ahsimal's presence, and then continued. "Cassandra was communing with a dead teacher and we accidentally interrupted the process. The soul panicked and started attacking everyone...Ron fainted. Cassandra warded the spirit off, but it gave her quite a beating before she finished. I found a tonic to wake up Ron, and gave it to him. Right about that time, you came in."

Ahsimal raised an eyebrow and then said softly to Ron, "Is that what happened?"

"Yes, Professor," Ron said. "If you don't believe us, go on and ask Cassandra if she's still conscious."

Ahsimal picked up the girl and said in a conscience-stirring voice, "What a pity; she goes through all that pain to make sure people like you don't get hurt. How do you pay her back, gentlemen? What would have happened to her if I hadn't come in here? I bet you two would have panicked like that spirit and left her here to die--"

"_No_!" Harry retorted at the albino teacher. "I was about to go look in the cabinets to see if there was anything that could help. If I hadn't found anything, I would have left Ron here while I went searching for Madame Pomfrey. I wouldn't leave her to die! She rescued us from Sebastian Argentum's wrath!"

"Potter, you expect me to believe that? What if this incident hadn't happened to a girl you hardly know...what if it had been _Malfoy_ or _Professor Snape_ that had gotten hurt?" Ahsimal looked at Cassandra and his eyes started to glitter again. "Oh, you're awake? I sent Mitzi to go get Madame Pomfrey. You'll be all right in no time, I promise."

"Darius," Cassandra said weakly, "Did I vanquish Sebastian successfully? Are Harry and Ron okay?"

Ahsimal shot the two boys a dirty look and said, "Oh, they're fine...absolutely _fine_. What about you? Are you hurting really bad anywhere?" He carried the girl out of the Turret and then said, "Potter, Weasley...I'll see you in Turret Thirteen in about twenty minutes for your Necromancy lesson with the other students. I'll deal with you accordingly after my class, and maybe I should go ahead and tell you...the sentence will be depending on how harsh Cassandra says it should be."

"Don't punish them, Darius," Cassandra groaned. "They were just being curious, and I'm sure they'll never follow me while I'm communing again."

Professor Ahsimal faced Harry and Ron, only his expression of anger had vanished. He looked really worried, but no longer infuriated. "You're lucky she's not in a foul mood," he said, his eyes were glittering once more, and he had a warm smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear that neither of you were going to abandon my star pupil up here."

"Professor, will she be okay?" Ron asked.

"I'll be better by the time Necromancy starts," Cassandra said as Ahsimal carried her off. "Unlike the time the Macedalion misfired, this can be fixed in a couple of minutes." She winked and said, "When I'm out of the infirmary, I'll tell you what I was going to talk to Sebastian about. Until then, I'll keep you in suspense--ow! Darius, that was my _leg_!--and have you guessing. Oh, in case you didn't know, Ahsimal's the only person that teaches Necromancy in the wizarding world. The majority of modern Necromancers have either studied under Ahsimal, or did so in secret with one of his star pupils." She gave off a sinister laugh and said, "I'd like to keep up my family tradition." Ahsimal carried Cassandra out of the turret. Harry could hear his footsteps slowly getting softer.

"Well, I'm glad to know she'll be fine," Harry said. _And I'm glad that she didn't ask me about that damn mirror_. "Shall we start heading over toward Turret Thirteen, Ron? Ahsimal won't be too thrilled if we're late."

The walk through the Labyrinth this time was a lot easier because the place had been lit up by torches after Ahsimal had passed by. Nobody was in the halls for a while, but all the Hawkbane students were crowded at the foot of Turret Thirteen, waiting for Ahsimal to unlock the door and let them into the Necromancy turret. "Harry!" shouted Hermione as she waved furiously for him and Ron to come over to where she and Celia were. "Where were you two? Celia and I looked practically _everywhere_ and we couldn't find you."

"Yeah, you were getting us worried," said Celia. "Where'd you go?"

"Er," said Harry, "we saw someone who was wearing a hood and cloak go into a certain hallway. We followed her up to the Aerie--"

"That's Turret Seven!" Celia screamed in excitement. "What was it like up there? Were there severed heads and rotting corpses lying about, like Josh told me? Was Marcus right about there being another Philosopher's Stone hidden in the highest room? Is there a monster chained up, waiting to devour its visitors?" She then paused and then said, "You said the hooded figure was a _girl_. Who'd she turn out to be?"

Ron laughed. "Cassandra Snape...we were sure it was her as soon as we saw the neck of one of those dreadful sweaters she always seems to have on. Her greasy hair kind of gave it away for us, too."

"Ewww!" Hermione said. "She's a terror; have any of you noticed that she's usually got her nose stuck in a book about the Dark Arts? Don't you find that a little _creepy_?"

"I know _I_ do," Celia said, folding her arms. "What was she doing up there?"

"She said she was _commuting_," Ron said. "No, wait; that doesn't sound right..."

"I think you mean _communing_," said Hermione. "It means talking to the Dead. I looked it up in Necromancy I, the textbook Professor Ahsimal assigned for this class."

"Oh, that sounds more like it," said Ron, blushing. "But did you have to make me look like an idiot in front of Harry and Celia, Hermione? If so, you did a splendid job!"

Hermione beamed and said, "I take it both of you came prepared?"

Harry looked in his bookbag and sighed with relief. He had all the materials that Ahsimal had requested he bring for the class, as well as an extra quill. He watched Ron make a face as he pulled out his worn-out quill and his brother Bill's old Necromancy supplies. Bill had been the only other Weasley to take Necromancy, so his stuff wasn't _too_ worn out. "Sure did, what about you?"

"I'm pretty sure none of us are going to _like_ Necromancy. After I finished reading a couple of chapters on the subject, I had to rush to the closest bathroom and vomit. There is quite a lot of stuff in there that is so revolting that my guess is that only _certain people we know_ would actually enjoy this course, Cassandra included. It really doesn't surprise me that she would be communing in a forbidden area...Ahsimal has had a rather hard time keeping this class alive...no pun intended." Hermione looked at a clock on the wall. "Where is he? It's unlike a teacher to be late for his own class, especially if he's been here for centuries and knows where everything is in Hogwarts. I seriously doubt he's lost."

"Well, anyway, what happened after you guys caught Cassandra Snape? Did she catch you?" Celia's eyes were wide open, and her green one seemed to have lit up. The expression she had on reminded Harry of a child staring at an expensive toy in a department store...or his cousin Dudley looking at a freshly baked cake. It was clear that the Seventh Year Ravenclaw wanted to know more about what had happened in Turret Seven. "Oh, and please tell me what the Aerie looks like, Ron! I'd love to know what all was in there!"

"Well," Ron said, "there was a gigantic stained glass window of the school, the walls were all white marble and there were pillars and cabinets everywhere. In the center was a glowing lantern suspended in the air...that's all I remember about the scenery. The stuff Cassandra was doing was far more interesting!" He elbowed Harry and said, "Why don't you tell them what happened next?"

"Sure," Harry said coolly. He told Celia and Hermione how Cassandra had started to commune with Sebastian Argentum, until she realized she'd been followed. "She then told us that we were in danger and that we'd get out, if we wanted to live. Then Argentum's soul panicked and his body--but is it really a body if it's transparent?--changed form. He then got really violent and started charging at us. We were absolutely terrified, and Ron even fainted when the thing grabbed his ankle. Cassandra took a serious thrashing, but finally managed to make Argentum disappear. Then Ahsimal came in and accused Ron and me of beating up Cassandra--"

"We wouldn't have blamed you even if you _did_ attack her, Harry," said Hermione.

"She got sent to Madame Pomfrey, and I think that's why Ahsimal's late. He wants to wait on his, er, _star pupil_." Harry sighed and said, "She's not injured too badly...nothing was beyond repair."

"Well, that sucks," said Josh, joining in on the conversation. "A little pain and agony would suit her, don't you think? Always asking to work alone and never talking to anyone...I bet she thinks she's too good for her fellow students." He let out an irritated sigh. "I can't stand people like that. They get on my nerves even more than Peeves does at his best."

"Now, that wasn't nice, Josh!" Celia said as she stomped the Hufflepuff's foot. "Even Cassandra Snape deserves a bit of respect. Although she's such an unpleasant individual, she is still a superb student that has a cleaner record than you do." She snickered and then said, "Does Josh want Celia to tell Mr. Filch where those dung bombs that were set off in his office came from?"

"You wouldn't dare, Celia!" Josh said, horrified. His face was twisted in agony.

Celia beamed and then let out a giggle as she patted Josh on the shoulder. "You're right...I wouldn't do that to you. I just wanted to make you squirm a bit."

"You're lucky that we already ate dinner an hour ago, otherwise I would have thrown up on you!" Josh grumbled.

Another five minutes passed, and Harry (along with everyone else) was still waiting for Ahsimal to open up Turret Thirteen. His feet were beginning to hurt from prolonged standing, and he was getting pretty bored. Celia and Hermione had moved over to another spot to talk about Viktor Krum (Hermione's boyfriend) and Celia's secret crush. Josh had found Marcus and Rick and had started discussing Quidditch teams with them. Although Harry had been invited to join in on the conversation with Quinn and Sally-Anne, he declined the offer, knowing that they were only talking about him. Ron was with him, but Harry knew that his friend wanted to defend his favorite Quidditch team (the Chudley Cannons) from Josh's unpleasant remarks.

"If you want to talk to Marcus, Rick, and Josh, go ahead. There's no need to look out after me," Harry said. Ron rushed over there and started badmouthing Josh's favorite team (the Kyoto Tsunamis, from Japan) to get even with Josh for saying the Chudley Cannons had a ten-year losing streak, if not longer. Harry rolled his eyes. He loved Quidditch, but he wasn't obsessed with the professional teams as much as Ron was.

"Potter, fancy seeing you without Granger or Weasley clinging to your side. Did they leave you behind...or have you wizened up and found new companions?" Harry recognized that voice immediately. He turned around and scowled at the blonde boy.

"Shut up, Malfoy, and mind your own business. They're just talking to other people about stuff I'm not interested in. It's no big deal."

"Oh, really?" Draco said, smirking. "Have you got your supplies for this class? I've heard a lot of rumors about Ahsimal from my parents and I hope only a few of them are true. I've heard that he's one of the world's finest Necromancers, but I've also heard that a lot of people have either died or went missing and never returned from his end-of-term-trip to downtown Hogsmeade...in the section that is normally off limits to Hogwarts students. I've also heard that he's the guy that really killed Lupin. Maybe you've heard that from the Daily Prophet?" He held up something that looked like a really big and fat maggot in a jar. "Know what this is?"

Harry shook his head. It was one of the most revolting things he had ever seen. It looked pretty angry, and it was thrashing its body against its glass prison, trying unsuccessfully to get out and be free. "Not a clue."

"It's a grave maggot," Draco said with satisfaction. "These little creatures can find their way into most coffins and will hasten the decomposition process as they eat off dead flesh...people are their favorite. Grave maggots are used moderately in a lot of potions associated with the Dark Arts...including the infamous Tonic of Nightmares."

"You found that last bit out from Snape, didn't you?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said. "The grave maggot and the information on it came from my cousin Elsa. She's a student over at Lazulien University and is majoring in the Dark Arts."

"Now, why am I _not_ surprised?" Harry said in sarcasm.

"Potter," Draco whispered in Harry's ear. "You know that you and I are on the same side, right? We've got a common goal...so therefore, we've got to help each other out as best we can." He paused, and then added, "That means no more Mood Drops!" Harry burst out laughing, but Draco looked furious. "So, it _was_ you! Potter, I'll have your head for this!" He stomped off, even angrier than he had been when Harry had brought out the truth about his father to the open public. "Rick! Marcus! Why are you two talking to Weasley! Get over here right now!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Draco," said Marcus. "I'm arguing for the Ballycastle Bats' sake over here! If I don't defend my favorite Quidditch team, who will?"

Draco rolled his eyes at Marcus and then shouted for Rick to come over to where he was. Rick obeyed and asked what was wrong. Harry could hear Draco rambling on and on about what Potter had done to him.

Harry couldn't help but snicker again. He looked around some more to see Lisa and Ella were in a corner, talking about who was a cute couple. _Boring._ Morag MacDougal had joined Quinn and Sally-Anne in their conversation about Harry. _Boring._ Isis was flirting with Atticus, who wasn't interested in the attention and was trying to get the girl to leave him alone. _Funny, but boring._ Sam McCallisten was off in a corner, looking at that month's edition of the Quibbler. _Boring_...Harry couldn't find anyone who seemed interesting enough to talk to at present. He wanted Ahsimal to hurry up and unlock Turret Thirteen so he could get a taste of what Necromancy would be like.

He didn't have to wait too much longer; Cassandra ran over to where the other students were, and no damage could be seen on her...not even the bruises. She had her bookbag with her, as well as her other equipment needed for the class. If he hadn't seen what had happened not even fifteen minutes ago up in the Aerie, Harry would have just thought that the girl had lost her way; there was no sign that she was hurt at all.

Finally, Ahsimal made his way in front of the students and unlocked Turret Thirteen. "Please, let me get to the front, so I can guide you to the room we will be using this week."

As the students started heading toward the classroom, Cassandra tapped Harry's shoulder and said, "I told you that I'd tell you why I was up in the Aerie, so here goes...I was up there to ask Sebastian if he'd seen my mirror. It's been missing since last Friday, and I'm about to drive myself insane looking for it. Have you seen anything?"

_Tell her!_ Harry took a deep breath and said, "Can this wait? I think Ahsimal's unlocked the classroom."

"Indeed; I _have_ unlocked the classroom!" Ahsimal said loudly. "All of you may proceed."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

Beast in the Bowl

Unlike the other Hawkbane turrets, Ahsimal's classroom (or at least the one that was being used today) was located on the bottom floor of the tower. "We will be working our way up, until we make enough progress to use the Summoning Room at the top of Turret Four...which I doubt we'll do by the end of the year. You'll have to be a rather clever bunch to make it that far in Necromancy. The last class I taught that made it that far in one year was ages ago...but enough of that! This is Necromancy I, Classroom A."

Harry looked around to see what the classroom looked like. It was even more bizarre than Leir's classroom...there were cobwebs everywhere, and no windows. The walls were black marble covered in dust. Above the heads of the students was a chandelier made of human skeletons. There was also the Hogwarts coat of arms, made from the bones of several long dead people. Whatever decoration was in the room, it was black. There was a fireplace, and twenty large, black cushions were rather close to it...for the students. There were clipboards for the parchment, and Professor Ahsimal didn't have a desk in here...he just had a dragon-leather recliner with an ebony wood finish.

"I am so sorry about the long wait, students," said Ahsimal. "I had some errands I had to take care of." He looked over at Harry and winked. He then faced all the students and said, "First off, I want to tell all of you that most of the rumors you have heard about me are either true or based on the truth. I'm a bloody vampire, so sue me...and I _have_ bitten students and professors before."

Harry and the others gasped in surprise...their Necromancy teacher was a vampire! Ahsimal gave a fake cough to get everyone's attention, and then continued. "If I am not in Turret Thirteen, that means I'm somewhere else on campus, and none of you are allowed to follow me without permission...unless I bit you. I could be anywhere, doing anything imaginable. Sometimes you'll be pining for the teacher you used to detest the most by the time I'm through with you if you get in trouble with me. Nobody escapes my wrath towards disobedience."

He raised his arms and said, "Feel honored, students, because there is not another Necromancy teacher in the world. This is your only opportunity to learn about this type of sorcery."

Draco whispered and snickered with Rick and Marcus. "I can't believe Dumbledore trusts _Slytherins_ to learn this subject...Necromancy is as evil as it gets!"

"Who told you _that_?" Ahsimal asked curiously, cocking his head to one side. That made his long, white hair flow in streams as it fell to his knees.

"My father," Draco said shyly.

"Lucius was correct, in some aspects. Necromancy can be considered a Dark Art because it is the Magic of the Dead. In this class, we will deal with Zombies, living dead, and perhaps gore crows for the first semester. If you stay for second term, I'll show you how to Commune and use the Dead to your advantage. If you're really good in here and devote yourselves to this class, I'll even show you the best thing Necromancy can offer...Resurrection of the dead. Wouldn't it be interesting to raise someone from the Dead completely, even if millennia have passed by? I'll supply instructions—as well as bodies at first—then we'll start digging them up ourselves."

Ahsimal looked about the room and said, "Unlike the other Hawkbanes, I will _not_ have an introductory lesson. We will be jumping straight into Necromancy today, and will begin with our unit on Zombies. First off, how many know the difference between Zombies and the Living Dead?"

Only Cassandra, Hermione, Atticus, and Draco raised their hands. Even Celia was stumped. Ahsimal shrugged. "Okay, only four. Malfoy, tell us the difference."

Draco took a deep breath. "Professor Ahsimal, the differences between Living Dead and Zombies are few."

Ahsimal nodded. "I think everyone knows that much. Go on and name two _specifics_."

Draco continued, "The Living Dead aren't as clumsy and mindless as Zombies. Another thing is that Zombies can't talk, but Living Dead might, unless they were mute when they were alive."

The Necromancy professor clapped his ghostly white hands together at that. "Well, that was correct, Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin. Another thing is that Zombies are deaf, too. They can't hear a thing...even people screaming at the top of their lungs. The only person they can hear is their Revivor." He paused, and his mauve eyes lit up brightly. "Let's take a little walk to a cemetery in downtown Hogsmeade, shall we?"

Ahsimal led the students outside the castle to St. Clytemnestra's Memorial Cemetery. The sky was beginning to darken with twilight. It was a couple of miles of walking, and a few people were tired, but Ahsimal didn't seem to be bothered by this. "Okay. We're going to need a body for this project. Malfoy, you answered your trivia correctly in the classroom."

Draco nodded nervously. "What about it, Professor Ahsimal?"

Ahsimal grinned where everyone could see his sharp fangs. "Your reward is to choose the body and who digs it up."

Draco beamed like the teacher and pointed at Ron. "Weasley is going to dig up..." he looked around the cemetery and pointed at a headstone that had no name on it. "...this guy."

Ahsimal seemed to tense up as Draco picked that headstone. "That's Regulus Black, in case you didn't know. He was a Death Eater." After Draco persisted, Ahsimal shrugged his shoulders to show he didn't care. He hurled a shovel at Ron. "Go ahead. Here's what you need. Since this might take a while, I might as well tell you wonderful students that the Headmaster really doesn't approve of this class too much. The only reason he keeps it here is because I've been around longer than he has and he's not a fool. He knows how dangerous it would be to get me angry."

Harry turned to Hermione. "What do you think of Necromancy so far?"

Hermione sighed and gave a surprising answer. "I'm really freaked out by all of this bloody mess...I don't like this one bit."

After Ron finished digging up the coffin, Ahsimal got Josh and Marcus to carry the coffin like pallbearers back to the classroom. They gently set it down and started to take their seats. Ahsimal held up a pale hand with a gaudy ring on his middle finger. "Stay put! We need a volunteer to open the coffin. I am persuading those with weak stomachs not to do this. This isn't going to be a pretty picture."

Isis shuddered at that. "Who's in there, anyway?"

"Didn't you hear the professor, Acheron?" Marcus said. "Regulus Black."

A hand was raised, and Ahsimal perked up. "Yes, what is it, Fallowin?"

Rick spoke up. "I want to be the one to open that horrid thing...for practice." Ahsimal and Cassandra looked each other in the eye and started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

Ahsimal, still snickering, replied, "Okay, Fallowin. Your funeral," and continued to laugh. Harry could only guess the expression that would soon be on Rick's face.

Everyone watched with anticipation as Rick opened the coffin. It wasn't as bad as everyone had thought it would be; it was just a skeleton clothed in tattered garb. Ahsimal looked up. "Okay. This is going to become our first little project. Our job is to make Regulus a Zombie. He's decomposed enough so that he can't see, hear, feel, whatever...unless summoned. I'll ask a few questions and then Ella will supply the stuff you, my darling pupils, are going to need. Any volunteers for a little trivia? There will be a reward." Hermione raised a hand. "I need someone who hasn't tried to _memorize my book_. How about you, Parkinson?"

Pansy perked up and her jaw dropped. "Y-yes, Professor Ahsimal?"

Ahsimal shrugged once more. "You're our next volunteer. Tell me, what do Zombies eat?"

Pansy relaxed a bit and smiled. "That's easy; they _don't_ eat."

"Five points will be added to Slytherin for your good answer. Now, tell me...how reliable are they?"

"They aren't reliable at all," Pansy said coolly. "They're so unreliable that they would be late for their own funeral." Harry could tell Pansy was feeling pretty confident. These were fairly easy questions.

Ahsimal laughed. "It's obvious you looked at the study questions this summer. _Another_ five points for Slytherin! Final question, and this shows whether or not you've been listening to Professor Binns...when in history were Zombies first discovered?"

Pansy started to sweat. "I...I don't know."

Ahsimal applauded loudly. "Correct, my dear! Yet _another_ five points for Slytherin! They've always been there, so we aren't exactly sure when they first showed up. Your reward is that you can summon the Zombie and keep it as your servant."

Pansy grinned in pride; Zombies were a lot cooler than house elves, any day...and here she got one for answering three easy questions.

Atticus turned toward Harry and whispered, "She obviously was clueless about that last one. She only got it by sheer dumb luck. I hope that stupid Zombie remembers who and what is was before it died. That way, it'll strangle her."

Celia sighed. "Pansy's not so bad, Atticus."

Atticus guffawed. "Not so bad, Celia? Her only flaw is her stupidity!"

Celia hissed back, in a mocking tone, "Really? Then how did she get into Hawkbane courses, Mr. Smarty-Pants?"

Atticus paused to think about that and said, "I'll get you back on that one later."

Ahsimal raised his arms and pulled his sleeves back. "_Rigormortium Malidicitus_!" He glanced at the students and got an expression on his face that simply told them to copy what he had just done.

"_Rigormortium Malidicitus_!" the class replied.

Suddenly, a skeletal arm arose from the coffin, and a pair of empty sockets seemed to stare at everyone in the room. It moved, like a cruel parody of human life, all jerky and stiff. It suddenly stopped in front of Pansy. She stuttered. "Uh..uh...can you hear me?" The skeleton nodded. "Can you hear anyone or anything else?" She bit her lip when the thing shook its head stiffly. She turned toward the professor, who seemed to be staring into nothingness. "Professor!"

Ahsimal suddenly shot out of his trance and snapped at the girl. "What is it now, Parkinson?" He didn't sound friendly anymore.

"Um...sir...the Zombie is following me around."

Ahsimal shrugged coldly. "Regulus is supposed to follow you around. You're his Summoner, after all."

Harry and Ron laughed as Pansy started to run from the Zombie. The efforts was futile, as it just followed the girl around the room. Tears of amusement were leaking from Hermione's eyes. "This is hilarious!"

Ron was rolling over in laughter, until he accidentally let out a fart, which caused Rick to start coughing and Draco to start making gag noises. That was when he started to straighten up. Ahsimal looked like he was a bit disappointed with how unruly his students had been on their first day in Necromancy.

"Pansy, why don't you tell Regulus to go clean up your dormitory and start on the hall when he's finished? I really must send all of you off to your Common Rooms now. Now, get out of here before the bell rings."

"Did you see the way Ahsimal looked after our lesson?" Harry asked. "He looked like he did up in the Aerie, and that's not a good thing to say...he was rather irritable."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," said Ron. "I've heard Ahsimal gets moody like that whenever something gets revived in his classroom and it's nothing out of the ordinary in Necromancy."

"At least Living Dead and Zombies are somewhat _decent_," another voice said. Harry turned around to see Cassandra had followed them. "The dirty work starts with gore crows." She then walked off with her nose stuck in the black book once more. "Have a nice day."

"What's a gore crow?" asked Celia after Cassandra had left. She was half-curious as to what it was, but the other half of her really knew she didn't want to know this.

"A gore crow can be one of two things," said Hermione. "The Type A gore crow is the rotting body of a crow with a broken soul of a man or woman implanted inside, and they tear anything alive to pieces, with the exception of the Summoner. The Type B gore crow is the body of a human with the soul still in it. It might be a bit decomposed, or even up to the skeletal state, but the soul is put back in to the sad remains of the body. They can function like a normal human, but they know things humans shouldn't, and they are pretty much a resurrected person who hasn't been completely recovered, so the body is still dead. Most have a grim outlook on things. Both Type A and Type B gore crows are extremely dangerous if not handled correctly, and I hope that quenches your curiosity about gore crows, Celia."

Celia looked like she was going to vomit after she heard that. "That's disgusting."

"Um...Hermione? D-did you say tha-that they kn-kn-know things? Like wh-what?" Josh really looked nervous about asking this, and seemed to be dreading the answer.

Nobody was prepared for what Atticus said to answer Josh. "Well, Josh, Type Bs know what has happened to people and what will happen to them. They will delight in telling you painful truth--they really don't lie much--and who has done wrong to you behind your back. They can tell you what will happen to you and other people in the future. They will tell others how you wronged them as well. They are even able to realize your deepest, darkest, secrets in seconds just by looking you straight in the eyes or by listening to your voice. They stir up chaos, but they are so honest when they speak, you can't help but believe them, because what they say is true. They never tell people anything good, since they think that hope is the worst emotion of them all."

All of a sudden, Harry heard a rather violent fit of coughing coming from Turret Thirteen. He rushed over toward the Necromancy tower to find Cyanis, Ebonyste, and Lewn right outside the door, banging on it furiously. All three of them had chains of garlic around their neck. "Come on out, Darius. We're _waiting_!"

Ahsimal unlocked and opened the door. He was still coughing, and cast dirty looks at the three teachers. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lewn quickly pulled out a wooden stake. "We're doing Nezura a favor without her even knowing...we've come here to destroy the vampire, the blight to our beloved school."

Ebonyste nodded energetically and said, "I learned in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when Professor Tellulan was teaching it, that vampires will melt when they smell garlic."

Ahsimal rolled his eyes and then hissed at the other teachers, "It doesn't melt them, you dolt. All vampires are strongly _allergic_ to garlic--" he paused to let out another fit of coughing and then continued. "--_and_ it gets them very grouchy. Now, I was somewhat in a good mood until I got a bit of that horrid aroma. I'm not going to be nice to my students for the rest of the week, that's what I'm guessing, due to you three idiots." He coughed again and then looked at Lewn and Ebonyste. He sighed and said, "How you two became teachers, I'll never know."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron stayed to listen in on the conversation while Celia, Josh, Atticus, and the others had started to head off toward their House Common Rooms. "Well, that was weird. Who would have guessed...Ahsimal's a vampire!" Ron looked thrilled. "I know they've got a bad reputation and everything, but Charlie has a vampire pen-pal in Dublin that's as nice as she can be. When Beryl—that's her name—came to visit, she brought everyone some rather rare items you can only get in Ireland. I also know Ahsimal was about to yell at us up in Turret Seven, but over-all, he doesn't seem so bad."

"Well, I could have told you that he was a vampire as soon as we saw him in the Welcoming Feast," said Hermione, folding her arms. "He told everyone that his eyes were sensitive towards bright lights, and he also perfectly fits all the vampiric traits found in our new Defense Against the Dark Arts book, How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming by Artemis Acheson--"

Hermione was cut short because Nezura rushed down the halls, looking absolutely terrified. Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Leir were right behind her, trying to catch up with the petite teacher. None of them looked too cheerful either. Nezura ran right past the students and said, "Excuse me," as politely as she could while continuing to run. She reached the end of the hall and turned right, out of Harry's sight. The other four followed a few seconds later. Hermione and Ron rushed off towards the Gryffindor Tower, knowing that something really bad had probably just happened. Harry, however, wanted to know what was going on, so he peeked from the side of the wall. He could see Nezura and the others standing over what looked like a dead body. After his eyes had adjusted a bit better, Harry realized who had died with a sickening sense of recognition...Quinn Moon of Ravenclaw, one of Hawkbane Professor Leir's four sponsored students. Nezura said in a rather upset voice, "Not another one!"

"This is the fifth occurrence today, dead just like the others," said McGonagall.

"I can almost guarantee this isn't the last one we'll find today," Snape added. "We're bound to find others. Let's see...who have we found like this in the past hour?"

"Morag MacDougal from Hufflepuff, Ella Jorkins from Hufflepuff, Sally-Anne Perks from Gryffindor, Samuel McCallisten from Hufflepuff, and Quinn Moon from Ravenclaw," said Sprout. "Gee, the majority of them are part of my House..."

Nezura looked at the body sadly and took a picture before everyone picked Quinn's limp form up. "We'll have to write his parents, tell them what happened to their son as far as we know, and ask if they would be willing to have him resurrected by Skylarke or Ahsimal--"

"Ahsimal's the only _registered_ Necromancer here, Mitzi!" McGonagall shouted.

"I know that," Nezura said nervously and then said, "But I heard Skylarke's just as skilled, if not more so, than Ahsimal."

"How can you say that?" McGonagall snapped at the pretty teacher. "Darius has been teaching Necromancy here since Hogwarts was built! Mortimer was one of his pupils, so whatever Professor Skylarke knows about Necromancy, he learned it from Darius Ahsimal."

"Time has nothing to do with how good you are at something," Nezura hissed back. "I'm telling you, Mortimer Skylarke is better at Necromancy than Darius Ahsimal!"

"Here they go _again_," Harry heard Leir mutter to Snape. "Don't those two _ever_ get along?" The young teacher's eyeliner was beginning to run from his tears. "Quinn was my Ravenclaw, Sam was my Hufflepuff, and Sally-Anne was my Gryffindor...whoever did this wants to kill Draco Malfoy next, that's what I'm guessing, because he's my Slytherin, and now he's my star pupil, seeing as I have nobody else left to sponsor."

"I seriously doubt Malfoy's in jeopardy," Snape said. "Help me carry Moon to the infirmary, Wolfgang. Maybe that will clear your mind from your worries."

Nezura and McGonagall continued to argue about who was the better Necromancer (Ahsimal or Skylarke) until another shriek was heard a couple of halls down. "My word...will this never cease!" Nezura groaned and took off again, her wand in her hand. She rushed back down the hall and passed Harry. She stopped immediately and said, "Potter, head back to Gryffindor Tower."

"But--"

"NOW!" Nezura shouted. "Something's out there, and five students have already been mauled to death...just like Remus Lupin, the Tawny twins--Michelle and Audrey were my best friends--, Kevin McCallisten, and Gabriel Thomas. The death toll is rising, and I don't want '_Harry Potter_' to be a name on the casualty list...we need you."

"I want to help, Professor!" Harry said, and then remembered what Nezura had said on the train. "Come on, Mitzi! Let me do something!"

Nezura looked in Harry's eyes. She seemed to realize that there was no way she could deter the boy's desire to find out what was going on. "Very well, Harry...I won't stop you, but please stay close to me. I'll kill myself if whatever-it-is gets you." Nezura made sure that Harry didn't go down any corridors by himself. Her eyes widened for a moment and then she pointed to their right. "The shriek was that way," she said shakily. "Harry, pull out your wand. I can promise you that this is going to be a mess."

Nezura rapidly ran down the corridors and Harry followed the little teacher as quickly as he could. The hallways were winding, but the shriek's echo could be heard as they kept passing. "Concentrate, Harry...the enemy probably wants you to get sidetracked." Chasing Nezura seemed to have no end or change of pace...the shriek was everywhere, but no body had been found. "If it's not around this corner I'm giving up on finding--"

"Mitzi!" Sprout shouted. "I found the victim."

"Good for you!" Nezura said sarcastically to the Head of Hufflepuff. "Are you sure that's where that shriek came from?"

"Affirmative."

"Well, who is it?" Nezura shouted back, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"It's a Gryffindor First Year, Mitzi," Sprout said sadly. "She's still alive, but just that."

"Can I get a name?" Nezura said in an exasperated tone. Her fingers were drumming her folded arms, and her left foot was tapping on the floor in a uniform beat.

"Meredith Fallowin," Sprout said. She moved so Harry and Nezura could see the eleven-year-old girl. She was bleeding badly from the neck, and her eyes were blank and staring into nothing. Her hands were clasping something that wasn't there. She was muttering something about a veil.

Nezura gasped and then turned to face Harry. "I think it's time we retired for the night and made sure everyone else gets to sleep. I can guarantee that you'll have Defense Against the Dark Arts, Clairvoyancy, Alchemy, Curses & Rootwork, and Potions tomorrow. Even though half a dozen students have wound up dead this week, Dumbledore probably sees no reason to cancel classes." She escorted Harry to the Gryffindor Tower and said, "If any of your teachers, especially Ahsimal, give you any trouble, just let me know." She walked off quietly, her wand still out and ready for action.

Harry returned to the boys' dormitories and got into bed without even changing into his pajamas. He drifted off into a clouded, dreamless sleep.

The week passed, and all of the students were being looked after, since the incidents in Hogwarts were becoming ever more frequent. A teacher (Professor Miffles) had shown up dead, and the list of student deaths now consisted of twenty-seven names. Ahsimal was getting blamed, since he was a vampire (most of the bodies were found mangled with the most damage on the neck), but Harry got the feeling that the Necromancy teacher was innocent...this time.

Students couldn't go out into the halls without a teacher escorting them. The only places students could get away from the teachers were the dormitories (where a teacher with insomnia would be waiting patiently in the hall) and the bathrooms (where an impatient teacher would be outside the door and tell you when you've been in there too long) for privacy reasons.

Harry was rather upset about the unfairness of it all and decided to tell Ron and Hermione how he felt about this inequity. "When I had to use the bathroom, I had Snape accompany me, while Draco gets Leir to escort him around! I think I sense favoritism among the Hawkbanes." He kicked a soda can another student had littered in the hallway.

Ron shrugged. "If anyone gets favoritism treatment, it's you. I think it's obvious that Lewn, Snitchgrass, Furrier, and Parenein like you a lot. I'm not so sure about Leir or Ahsimal...I really don't like that guy's class. Sure, he's nice--and pretty cool--, but everything about Necromancy freaks me out."

Hermione patted Ron's shoulder. "I feel the same way. That class gives me the shivers, too." She then changed the subject for easier chat. "Who do you think is responsible for all these killings?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Ron said nervously. His face had turned pale.

"Well, I agree with you, Ron. It's either Voldemort--oh, give me a break, Ron! It's just another name--or one of his minions...what about Mortius?" said Hermione.

"Maybe Ahsimal is Mortius," Harry said jokingly. He felt that the vampire was an innocent fellow, and Ahsimal was too kind to have ever been a Death Eater.

However, the three students were surprised to see the look on their escort's face. Professor Lewn wasn't glowing like usual; she looked worried. "Who's Mortis?"

Draco pointed at Professor Lewn, and made a remark to Rick and Marcus. "Aren't you glad that we've got Wolfe as our escort?" Harry could tell Draco was glad that he didn't have Lewn supervising him. "I heard Cassandra's stuck with her dear Professor Ahsimal. I bet she's thrilled."

Marcus laughed at Draco's wisecrack about Cassandra Snape. "Dear, sweet, Professor Ahsimal indeed! The guy has the driest sense of humor I've ever had the misfortune to run across. I like him and his class, though. He's kind of cool."

Parkinson nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Ahsimal's my favorite teacher because I like Necromancy, but I think Leir's really sexy."

Leir turned around to face the group of students with rosy cheeks from embarrassment. "Not you too!" He then saw Harry and his friends scowling at Lewn, and then said, "Harry! Do you three have the same classes as Draco?" When Harry nodded, Leir said, "Well, would you rather have me escort you?"

"Gladly!" Hermione said, rushing up toward the teacher and seizing his arm. Leir's rosy face turned scarlet, and the expression on his face reminded Harry of a trapped animal looking frantically for a way out of its predator's grasp.

On the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Leir asked the students, "Have any of you ever heard of our school's toilet monster? We call him the Beast in the Bowl, but most of the students call him 'Beastie' for short."

"I've met Beastie before," said Marcus. "Speaks English very well, quite polite. Just don't sit on the john he's occupying or you'll regret it. Let's face it; where are you more exposed than on the toilet seat?"

Harry and the others laughed at that, and continued to listen with interest. Beastie was a popular topic in the Hawkbane classes, but he was rarely seen these days. As the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was approaching, Harry stopped while the others kept going, oblivious they'd just left him behind. He had heard something interesting coming from a classroom that was usually empty...a conversation.

"You know I'm not guilty. Why does everyone think it's me? Hawkbanes should have control over their actions, and believe me when I say I do," Harry realized that the speaker was Ahsimal immediately...that elegant voice was one that was hard to forget. Ahsimal didn't sound too happy, either. "Look, I'm in Bloodlust right now, but do you see me attacking anyone?"

Harry looked through the crack in the door to see that Snitchgrass, Parenein, and Lewn were in there as well. Snitchgrass was rubbing her lower back side and looked like she was hurting pretty badly. Lewn raised a hand meekly and said, "Those poor kids that wound up dead...the most damage was done in the spot you bit--"

"I didn't kill those students, damn it!" Ahsimal snarled at the blonde teacher furiously. "If anything, I'm guessing that Death Eaters, if not Voldemort himself, is the person to blame."

Parenein gulped and then said, "_DO NOT USE THE DARK LORD'S NAME! _Darius, I believe you, but I think the problem is the pupils and how rumors get started. Give them a piece of juicy gossip, and tongues will wag immediately, I promise you." Snitchgrass groaned and threw up in the wastebasket. "Lucinda, what's wrong?"

Snitchgrass looked up, her hair a complete mess. "I met zat little monster za kids call Beastie."

Ahsimal raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "You met Beastie?" He apparently saw the humor potential in this and, with a bit of impolite snickering, asked Lucinda, "How did you meet the Beast in the Bowl, Lucinda?" Harry had to stifle his own giggles.

Snitchgrass gave Ahsimal a dirty look and said, "I zat down, and somezing bit me. I jumped up and zen saw a creature in ze toilet looking back at me. It vas slimy, black, about ze size of a large houzecat, 'ad fins like a lionfish, three rows of needlelike teeth, and froggy skin. It hissed at me, and zen it jumped back down za drain." She rubbed her rump where Beastie had nipped her. "Zose little teeth hurt."

Harry really wanted to laugh, but couldn't risk getting caught. Ahsimal and the other Hawkbanes in the room burst out in laughter. "Oh, poor Lucinda, just doing what humans do. Did Beastie say anything? Some of the students said the little fellow can speak English."

Snitchgrass scowled at the vampire. "No, it zimply hissed at me!"

Ahsimal and the others boomed with even more uncalled-for laughter. "I really bet your ass hurts, and I get the feeling that you're not going to be sitting down for a week." Snitchgrass chased Ahsimal around the room, trying to get him to stop laughing at her.

Harry had an epiphany; perhaps Beastie was connected to the attacks...or maybe even the gorgonix? It could attack anyone in the school at any time. He recalled hearing Marcus say, "Let's face it; where are you more exposed than on the toilet seat?" a few minutes ago. Oh yes, Beastie could easily be a prime suspect for what was going on. Now, all Harry had to do was find the creature and interview it...after Defense Against the Dark Arts with Nezura was over and done with for the day.

He walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and saw that he still was surprisingly one of the first students in there. "Take a seat, Harry," Nezura said in an energetic tone. "We're going to cover something challenging today. Since you're doing so well in here, could you help any fellow Gryffindors that might be having trouble? You realize this isn't a Hawkbane course, and there are some people in here that have poor grades. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas are only two of a series, if you catch my drift." She smiled and said, "Would you like to know what we'll be doing today?"

"I sure would!" Harry said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Nezura giggled and said, "Chimaeras." She pointed to a box and said, "Sure, when you first see them, they look neat...but mark my words when I say these this bugger can do a lot of damage. They Shapeshift into the strongest thing they can think of, and attack as best they can, which is saying quite a lot. I'm asking volunteer students to either use a Shielding Spell like _Magarus Nistenia_ or wear a suit of armor." She laughed and said, "Trust me, Harry, things are going to get nasty today."

Nezura's class was a lot of fun (as usual) but it was most certainly challenging. Chimaeras were really impressive, but they were one of the toughest creatures the students had ever faced. It was almost as if they could figure out what their foe was the most afraid of in an instant, and would make a really dramatic scene by changing into the worst nightmare of the student that was volunteering.

When Neville got up there, the chimaera changed into Professor Snape, and it was carrying a mace in one tightly clenched fist, dripping with blood. Neville panicked, and Nezura had to subdue the chimaera before things got too messy. She did so by playing a few notes on her clarinet, which made the little creature shift back to normal and fall asleep.

"That was close," Nezura said. "Don't worry, Neville. Most people react like you just did when they first encounter a chimaera. You were doing just fine until it shifted."

When Harry had faced a chimaera in there, almost all of the students in the room ran out in terror (rightfully so, because the creature shifted into Voldemort), screaming at the top of their lungs. Harry shouted _"Magarus Nistenia!"_ as he raised his wand, but nothing happened. The creature kept on coming forward, its pale hands stretched out to strangle Harry. Nezura once more had to subdue the chimaera.

"Harry, I was expecting something like this to happen, so that's why I brought my clarinet." She played the pretty little piece again and the chimaera fell asleep after shifting to its original state. She sighed and said, "Okay, we'll have a review on this tomorrow. I'm sure that if you guys ever get around to Curses & Rootwork with Professor Skylarke, you'll all be able to use _Magarus Nistenia_ properly and will have some better results than just a gold fog. Okay, now I've got to escort all of you to Clairvoyancy. Do we need to stop anywhere on the way to Turret Two?"

"Oh joy," said Harry. "Now we go to Professor Lewn's class. I hate Clairvoyance."

Isis Acheron was walking with the group now. She'd managed to become Hermione's best friend, as well as Celia's, so she was allowed to join the crowd whenever she liked. She grumbled, "I hate Professor Lewn, _period_." Isis and Celia looked at each other and gagged.

"Hello, everyone," said Atticus. "Have I missed anything?"

"Not much," Harry told his friend. "We're all just talking about how much we detest Lewn."

Atticus raised an eyebrow and looked amused. "I'm not even going to ask."

Nezura made sure everyone made it to Turret Two, which she unlocked. "All of these precautions are for your own good, according to Cornelius Fudge. We don't want any more deaths here at Hogwarts, and that's why I wrote the Ministry, saying that we needed to place more Aurors here...but even I agree that this is getting out of hand..." She waved and said, "See you tomorrow!" Before she headed off, she faced the students and said, "By the way, Gryffindors, my baby griffins are old enough to where they don't need to be watched all the time. They need to find some loving homes, so I was wondering if anyone would like to consider having one for a pet. If you're interested, tell me at dinner, okay? Until then, I'll be seeing you!" She blew everyone an air kiss and started jogging down the halls. Harry heard her say, "Hagrid, would you like a griffin?" and he couldn't help but laugh. Nezura could be such a cheery and fun person when she wasn't worried or stressed out. Since the killings had slowed down for a while, she'd been looking pretty happy, and had been giving Slytherin and Gryffindor points like wildfire...not that either house really minded the extra attention too much.

Harry turned around to hear what Celia, Isis, and Hermione were talking about as he took his seat next to Atticus. He overheard Isis say, "I agree! Professor Leir is gorgeous!"

Atticus tapped Harry on the shoulder and said, "I think she's losing it. Why haven't they hired any attractive female teachers for us guys to swoon over?"

Professor Lewn came into the class wearing bubblegum-pink robes and cotton candy-colored bunny slippers. "Hi class!" she said in her seductive voice. "I'm sorry we didn't start this unit sooner. We're going to deal with premonitions this week! Doesn't that sound like lots of fun?"

Lisa Turpin scowled at the blonde. "Boring," she said flatly. Harry howled with laughter, as did everyone else in the class. Even Lisa giggled after she'd said that.

Lewn acted like she hadn't heard Lisa. "You know, my class will be your favorite once this year's over. I'm going to prove to all of you that I'm better than Wolfgang Leir...that cocky bastard is trying to tell me how to run my class! Well, we'll be doing more discussions and hands-on projects than I'd first intended...this is going to be a look and touch class!" Her bust bounced as she said the last part, because she jumped.

Draco turned to Rick and snickered. "That depends on what we get to see and touch."

Hermione turned around and scowled at them. "Seriously, you two can be so immature it's not even funny. Grow up and get a life, Malloy!"

"I've got a great one, unlike you, Mudblood!" Malfoy snapped back. Hermione looked like she was about to cry, and her face went white as she sat back down.

Harry groaned, knowing this was going to be a class that would run slowly. A ditsy beauty queen running a Hawkbane course? This had failure written all over it. If anyone asked him, he would admit to thinking that Lewn was quite appealing to look at, but never did he think she was an intelligent individual...Professor Lewn was too good at acting dumb to be faking it. Harry gagged, although Lewn was nice to stare at. There was too much pink...it made the Clairvoyancy teacher look like a Barbie doll. "Okay, class," she said. "We're going to do a questionnaire to see what makes you guys tick in here."

"That was so annoying!" Celia grumbled, looking at the results of her questionnaire (which had nothing to do with Clairvoyancy; it had been a love quiz out of Witch Weekly) and was unhappy with her results. "I don't think Lewn has a lot of smarts underneath all of that blonde hair. She is such an air head!"

Isis and Hermione nodded in agreement. "She's so ditsy, too," said Isis.

"Harry, how did you put up with her making that melodramatic performance about your premature death like Trelawney used to do?" asked Hermione.

Harry smiled. "Easy, I put up with it for two reasons. The first was because predictions can be so inaccurate, and the other is because I can almost guarantee that Alchemy will be a lot more fun than Clairvoyancy."

When Harry walked into Turret Six, he looked at Parenein. The teacher looked dreadful...like he hadn't slept in ages. The formula he was working on today, a cure for boredom, would need everyone's attention. Harry, Ron, and Josh were quite famous for dozing off in Clairvoyancy and Alchemy, but they still managed to do well.

"Did you lunatics do your homework, or did you just loaf around and forget about it?" Parenein said sleepily. "If you are part of any extracurricular activity, like Quidditch or one of those new Dueling teams, you're excused for not listing the terms we'll be covering today. If not," he paused, and grinned, showing off his perfectly clean dentures. "You owe me an hour of detention late at night...on a non-Ahsimal period--"

"Professor," said Hermione. "What do you mean a non-Ahsimal period?"

Parenein let out a huge yawn and said, "Didn't you already know? Ahsimal teaches another Necromancy class at night. That's only an option for his college and Hawkbane students. Some of the stuff he teaches in there isn't taught in his day class, like how to resurrect the dead. Well, enough about Darius Ahsimal! I'll go around the room in my squeaky shoes, checking your assignments. Sorry I couldn't find any that were noisier; these are the best I can do on such short notice."

Atticus whispered in Harry's ear, "He uses the squeak shoes as a sign of power. That way, you can know where he is and how long it's going to take him to move to your direction. It builds up suspense."

"Really?" Harry asked jokingly. "I just thought he was trying to be annoying."

"That too," said Celia. "Now watch; he's going to ask Snape to do a demonstration for extra credit."

Parenein stood up and started stroking the pendant around his neck. "Hey, Cassandra, why don't you show us how to create the cure for boredom and lack of interest? That is what you were supposed to be studying for today's lesson." Cassandra didn't stand up; her face was buried in her pale hands. "What's wrong, Miss Snape?"

Cassandra raised her head up; she looked bleak. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her skin had a sunken texture to it. "I can't concentrate, sir. I feel like I'm going to--" she fell out of her seat with a sickening thud.

Atticus whispered to Ron, "She gets hurt or sick a lot, doesn't she? I think she just wants some attention from the teachers because we aren't giving her any."

Parenein sighed and got Marcus to contact Madame Pomfrey. "I guess that hell-of-a schedule finally caught up with her," he muttered, staring into his spiky mirror with a blank expression.

Next was Curses & Rootwork with Professor Skylarke. Harry wasn't too thrilled about this. Sure, Skylarke was a nice guy, but he could be so _gloomy_. It was almost as if an invisible Dementor followed him everywhere; never had Harry or any other student seen Mortimer Skylarke laugh or smile. He was obviously trying to hide something, too; Skylarke was a bit on the paranoid side.

Skylarke groaned as the students came in. "Please, keep the talking level down to a dull roar. You don't want to upset the balances I have spent hours putting together for today's assignment, students of Hawkbanes."

Malfoy raised his hand, and used his other one to ruffle his hair. "Really, Professor Skylarke, you need to get a life. You must have nothing better to do than spend hours of your time working on a project you know we'll just screw up anyway."

Skylarke rolled his eyes, like a student would to a Professor that was yelling at them. "Thank you for volunteering, Draco." He picked up a jar of brown glass. It was so dark, nobody could see what was inside. "I want you to put your left hand into this jar."

Malfoy snapped back, "What if I refuse?"

Skylarke sighed in an exasperated way. "I knew you'd say that, you wimp. If you refuse, then I'll take credit away from your grade. A 'P' to a 'D' in two seconds...do I make myself clear?"

_That_ got him to cooperate; he obviously wanted to pass, and Harry and the others knew that Malfoy had a 'P' in Alchemy already. If he got a 'D' or a 'T' in any course, he would most definitely be kicked out of the Hawkbane program. He couldn't afford to do any worse in Curses & Rootwork. He stuck his hand in the jar nervously, and then let out a bloodcurdling scream. When his hand came out of the jar, it was covered in blue flames.

Skylarke didn't laugh or smile; he still had the same grim look on his face. "Did it hurt?" he asked in an emotionless tone as Malfoy stuck his hand in a nearby water basin to quench the fire.

Malfoy growled, "Hell yeah."

Skylarke raised an eyebrow and said, "It was supposed to do that." He looked at his students and said in a calm voice, "You all will be glad to know that was not today's project. It was nothing more than my Retribution Tonic I got from your Potions Master."

Malfoy cradled his hand and sat back down in his desk. Skylarke paid him no more attention. "Okay, class. Today, we will begin our unit on one of my more popular subjects I teach here in Curses & Rootwork. We are going to start making voodoo dolls." Skylarke handed everyone a copy of the instructions on the board and said, "Homework will be to complete the dolls if you do not finish this class period, and make sure that you copy the instructions in your notes for future reference. That ink wears off in a few days."

Harry's eyes lit up, but he wasn't the only one. The whole class looked absolutely thrilled. Neville tapped Harry's shoulder and said, "I'm making one of Professor Snape and two of the Lestranges. Who are you going to make your voodoo dolls of?" Neville looked delighted, and since he was doing well in this class (surprisingly one of the top marks) he got the feeling his doll would not misfire or fail to work.

Harry whispered back to Neville, "You'll find out in a minute." He then looked to see how everyone else was coming along with the project. Hermione had already finished a doll of Lisa Turpin, and was working on one that shared a striking resemblance to Pansy Parkinson. Ron was having trouble making his, which was starting to look a lot like Professor Parenein. Celia and Isis were sitting together, making dolls of Crabbe and Goyle. Marcus was making one of Professor Ebonyste, but was having a bit of trouble putting the right herbs and oils inside the stuffing. Rick and Josh were having a lot of fun; they had made voodoo dolls of their parents and siblings. Neville's doll looked just like Snape, even down to the scowl and greasy hair, so Harry guessed it was coming along nicely. Cassandra had finished three dolls (Parenein, Lewn, and Snitchgrass) and was working on a doll of McGonagall. Malfoy had finished three dolls (that looked very similar to Harry, Dobby the house elf, and Hermione) and was working on a doll that couldn't have been anyone but Ron. Parvati, Seamus, Dean, and Lavender were sitting at a table, and they were all working on a doll of the same person (Dolores Umbridge). Harry looked back down at his doll. He had put the right stuffing in his, now he had to utter the spell necessary to "personalize" it and add the desired details to the surface, and then his masterpiece would be complete.

As the class continued their project in Curses & Rootwork, Cassandra gave off a cruel laugh as she completed her doll of McGonagall. Harry and Celia turned around, as if the girl had lost her mind (or at least what was left of it) "Are you feeling all right?" Harry asked, a bit worried that the Slytherin was up to no good.

Cassandra shut up immediately and shrugged. "I'm fine. Why ask?"

"Perchance," said Celia, "You sounded like our psychotic Necromancy teacher, Professor Ahsimal, just then."

"He's _not_ a psycho," said Cassandra flatly, sticking a pin into her Cyanis doll's left leg. A shriek could be heard from Turret Fourteen as soon as she did that. "Darius is a vampire, and I trust him with my darkest secrets. He is also my Hawkbane, in case you didn't notice, and therefore he is my favorite teacher. However, I think your taste differs from your Hawkbane, Celia. Isn't your favorite class Manipulations rather than Animagery?"

Celia nodded warily. "It sure is. What about it?" She obviously wanted to say something cruel to the girl, but she was also trying her best not to do so.

Cassandra sighed and said, "I know all of you girls think Wolfgang's a sexy guy." She then raised an eyebrow and got a perplexed look on her face. "What does it feel like, I wonder?"

"Cassandra," said Celia. "You mean you never think about _love_?"

Cassandra blinked in shock at Celia's question. She looked a bit offended. "Sure, I think about love. I just don't think about what I was talking about...a little thing you can't help called _lust_. How does it feel to have lustful thoughts, Celia?" She looked absolutely curious about this, and it was an innocent curiosity, not one of those filthy gossipy curiosities one might catch from Lisa. Cassandra seemed to only want to know what lust felt like, and nothing more. Harry sniggered as quietly as he could; she looked hilarious.

Celia's cheeks turned red after hearing Cassandra. "You mean you don't _know!_"

Cassandra shrugged casually. "I know it sounds weird, but I never have."

Celia smiled, realizing that Cassandra wasn't making fun of her, but just wanted an answer to the question. "Being in lust is the greatest feeling! You are actually attracted to someone for some reason or another, and you actually dream about them like some secret crush!"

Cassandra looked grossed out by that definition for a while, until she cracked up and started to laugh. "That is the corniest thing I've ever heard! Secret crush! Who would have thought up something like that for _lust_ but you?"

Celia turned beet red. "Shut up, Cassandra. Did you know you can be such a pain in the ass at times?"

'_Oh dear,'_ thought Harry as he saw Hermione coming toward them with a very heavy book. '_Here it comes.'_

"According to the New College Edition of the Hogwarts Heritage Dictionary, the first definition of _lust_ is 'sexual craving, especially excessive or unrestrained.' The second definition is 'any overwhelming desire or craving.' The third definition is 'obsolete pleasure, delight, or to relish.' And if you move down to _lustful_--"

"Can it, Hermione," said Celia.

"Look, Celia," said Cassandra. "I'm sorry if I sounded rude, okay? I didn't mean to offend you. I have my feelings hurt often, and I hope I didn't do the same to you." She held out her hand for Celia to shake. "No harm done?"

Celia shrugged and said, "Okay. No harm done," as she shook Cassandra's hand. "But don't think this makes us friends."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Cassandra said icily. She then added the finishing touches to another voodoo doll she had been working on, this one looked like Cho Chang. "At last..." Cassandra said in a false-sinister tone that got Harry to start laughing. "At last my pep rally collection has been completed!"

'_She can be nice when she wants to be. It hasn't left her completely_,' Harry thought. "You're truly evil, you know."

Cassandra nodded in agreement. "I know, and I've heard people tell me that for a long time. Curses & Rootwork is a cool class and everything, don't get me wrong, but I still like Necromancy by far the best."

"I hate Necromancy," said Celia, shivering. "Ahsimal's a freak."

"Well, so is Skylarke," Isis piped in before getting back to work. She didn't interrupt the conversation between Celia, Harry, and Cassandra anymore that class period.

"Ahsimal scares me too," said Harry. "But what does that matter? I love his class!" He then tapped Ron on the shoulder and asked, "Are you sure a voodoo doll's supposed to look like that?"

"I'm pretty sure," Ron said confidently.

"Who's it supposed to be anyway?" Hermione asked, joining in on the talking.

"Malfoy," Harry said, beaming at his masterpiece.

Ron and Hermione giggled, asking their friend to test out his classwork and see if it would do what it was supposed to do. As soon as Harry pulled out the needle, a pair of olive green eyes looked straight at him. "What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry's cheeks turned pink; he knew he'd been caught. "Professor Skylarke, I was about to test my voodoo doll out to see if I had made it properly." It was the lamest excuse, and he knew it.

"We were going to do that in our next class together," Skylarke said dryly. "Put the needle down unless you would like to spend a couple of hours this evening with me." Suddenly, the bell rang. Skylarke let out a heavy sigh and said, "I'll see all of you Thursday. Remember what I said was your homework assignment, and come prepared with your voodoo dolls. We will be testing them next time." Everyone rushed out of the door, but Skylarke grabbed Harry's shoulder before he could get out. "I need to have a word with you, and I hope you do not mind."

"I don't mind in the least," said Harry. "The more time you keep me in here, the less time I'll have to deal with Snape." He was rather surprised to see what Skylarke did...the teacher laughed.

"That was pretty honest," Skylarke said between snickers, and then he straightened up, looking serious again. "Harry, did you know Sirius Black?"

Harry gulped. '_How does he know? Is Skylarke a Legilimens like Voldemort or is it really that obvious?'_ "He was my godfather."

"I was aware of that. Have you wondered about the attacks that are going around the school? I get the feeling that it's a gorgonix, just like the last time this happened--"

"It's happened before!" Harry interrupted the teacher, but he didn't care about that right now. "When? Who died?"

"Your father was a Seventh Year and I was a Fifth Year the last time a gorgonix was fully unleashed at Hogwarts, and nearly three dozen people died. Many people wondered who was to blame for this, and most of the fingers pointed at our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Tybalt Tellulan." Skylarke pulled something that looked like a tiny ball made of blood red glass out of his pocket and put it in Harry's hand. "After you're through with your classes and homework, look into this sphere. All the questions you might have about the tragedy I mentioned to you will be answered in here. It's not exactly a Pensieve, but when used correctly, it will work the same way. However, you can manipulate the past if you're not careful. I suggest you be extremely cautious when using this, or let someone who knows how to use a Telemith pretty well accompany you as you view the past." The tardy bell rang, and Skylarke said, "I assume you'll be needing an excused tardy for Professor Snape?"

"Indeed," said Harry, holding out his other hand for the signed slip of paper Skylarke was writing his name on. "Thanks, Professor," he said as he started to walk off.

"Look, don't trust anyone you barely know. Don't trust _me_, Nezura, Goldman, Fallowin, Cantarus, Ebonyste; _anyone_...neither you nor I have any idea who might be the host of the gorgonix."

"How do you know it's a gorgonix?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Skylarke blanched and then said, "I've seen how they kill, okay? Look into the Telemith and that will answer most of it. Mitzi Nezura was sent by the Order of the Phoenix to be your next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Alastor Moody thought someone like her would be a good choice. You see, Mitzi is part of the Order, and has been an undercover Auror for the Ministry for years. You can learn a lot from someone like her, Harry, and she would be thrilled to hear that you are aspiring to become an Auror. She saw the body of Remus Lupin outside the Dungeon a couple of weeks before you students came here, and we both have the knowledge to realize that only one of two things could have killed Remus. The murderer was either a vampire or a gorgonix. I cannot tell you any more...just access the more recent memory in the Telemith for more details." Skylarke stopped suddenly and said, "Well, enough of this," as he handed over the note for Snape explaining Harry's tardiness. He also handed over a letter in a black envelope. "You should be heading toward the Dungeon yourself. Make sure you give Professor Snape both of these, okay? I'll see you back in here Thursday, if not sooner. Remember...be cautious and trust no one."

Harry was pondering Skylarke's words as he meandered through the halls to Snape's classroom. He had taken the furthest route to get there, postponing the inevitable as long as he could. He opened the door to the classroom, and the smell of ginger root and oleander was so strong, it nearly brought him to his knees. All his classmates had stopped working on their potions to see who had disturbed the class. Snape scowled, got up from his desk, and thundered toward the door. "Why are you late!" he bellowed.

"Skylarke--"

Harry was cut off. "That's _Professor_ Skylarke to you, Potter. Now, why are you late for my class?"

"Professor Skylarke needed to talk to me about something, sir," Harry said shakily. "Here's my excused tardy." He handed over the signed slip, but he hid the envelope in his pocket. He wanted to read it for himself before he handed it to Snape, but then his mind started racing. Maybe Skylarke will ask Snape if I gave him the letter--

"What have you got there, Potter?" Snape asked suspiciously. "Hand it over to me this instant or you will be faced with detention for the rest of the week!"

Harry unwillingly handed the Potions Master the letter and asked, "Am I excused?"

"Only because I hold your Curses & Rootwork teacher in high regard," Snape answered coldly. "Had it been one of the Hawkbanes, save Leir or Ahsimal, or one of your other teachers, I probably would have torn this excuse to shreds and written you up. You are lucky, Potter, that Skylarke is my best friend."

'_What!'_ Harry thought. '_They're nothing alike!'_ "May I take my seat now?" he said sharply to the teacher. He knew what was coming, but he didn't care right now.

Snape rolled his dark eyes. "You most certainly may, Potter. Even though you missed the first fifteen minutes of class--which I spent going over the process of making a cure for the common cold in detail--I expect you to finish your potion along with everyone else before the bell rings. You may team up with someone for this project, since everybody in here was given the same option. Look around the room...surely some sorry soul will wind up stuck with you since they had the misfortune to not find a better partner beforehand." He then moved back to his desk and shouted, "By the way, Potter, I will be deducting ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness."

"I had an excused tardy from Skylarke!" Harry shouted back angrily.

"First off, you are to refer to him as Professor Skylarke, and secondly...he wrote that he held you five minutes past the tardy bell. That was nearly ten minutes ago. The same staircase leading up to Turret Fifteen leads down to my classroom, so it could, at the most, have only taken you five minutes to get here. You were intentionally taking your longest to get down here, and for your puerile behavior, I will be deducting another ten points from Gryffindor. I can do this all day, Potter, as long as you keep on yelling. I've got a cup of really strong green tea on my desk, and it will be hours before I get tired. Now, take a seat and find a partner before I get even more pissed than I already am and make you work on this by yourself...which I am very tempted to do right now." Snape curled his lip up repulsively and gave Harry a very dirty look.

Harry scowled back and took his seat next to Ron. "Got a partner?" he asked.

"Sorry, mate," said Ron. "I'm working with Atticus."

Harry kept looking around the room to see someone he could team up with. "Hermione! Have you got a partner?"

"Sorry, Harry, but Neville and I are working together. Dean and Seamus are working in a group too, so don't even bother asking them." Hermione looked around and said, "I think Rick and Marcus are working together, too. Malfoy's partners with that horrid Parkinson girl, but I think Cassandra's working by herself. You two get along alright, so why don't you go ask her?"

'_It's worth a try_,' Harry thought miserably as he approached Cassandra Snape, who was carefully measuring the ingredients before putting them gently into her cauldron. "Got a partner yet, Cassandra?"

Cassandra looked up at Harry and said, "No," in a cool voice. "Need one? This sorry soul has wound up stuck with you, since I had the misfortune to not find a better partner beforehand." She gave Harry a smug look and said jokingly, "Sound familiar?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny," he said sarcastically as he sat down next to her. "So, where do we start?"

Cassandra handed over some ginger root, oleander, and something that looked a lot like gunpowder with emerald in it. She also placed a tiny vial of something next to it. "Since this is a group project, and I've already started, how about you put the ingredients in as I call them out to you? I've already measured everything, but something could always go seriously wrong. The item in the vial is nothing more than distilled dragon blood, and the other ingredients could be dangerous if placed in too swiftly or in the wrong order." She said, "Okay, I need you to put in the ginger root..."

The potion took a long time to make, but Harry felt that he and Cassandra did a rather nice job. As he handed the vial of it to Snape, he watched as the teacher closely examined it, looking for something, anything, to criticize. "Well, Potter," Snape said. "I must say you've never turned in anything this good before. Surely your partner did all the work. Who did you team up with, anyway?"

"Cassandra, sir," Harry said smugly. "I followed her instructions and mixed under her supervision--"

"That explains _everything_," Snape said. "My niece spoon-fed the material to you and got you to simply add the ingredients for her. I'll make sure you two never work together again...I can guarantee you that right now, Potter!" He would have started to yell, but Snape cut himself short. "However, I'm giving your group an 'O' because nothing is wrong with your sample. Don't get used to that grade, Potter. This is the first time you've ever had one in here, and I think it is quite safe to say that it will most certainly be your last."

At that moment, the bell rang. Harry rushed out of the room and was quick to join up with Ron, Hermione, and Atticus. "How did you and Neville do, Hermione?"

"We got an 'E,'" said Hermione. "It's not that bad, but I had been working my best."

"How'd Neville screw it up this time?" asked Ron.

"It's not Neville's fault that Malfoy threw a couple of bat wings in our potion and made it blow up!" Hermione shouted back. "Neville was doing just fine, so don't pick on him like that!"

"Well," Atticus said. "Ron and I got an 'A' on ours. I've had my mind more on those attacks rather than how to cure simple sneezing..."

"Good point," said Hermione. "Harry, who did you team up with, anyway?"

"Cassandra," Harry said, looking straight behind him. There she was, the reason he had gotten an 'O' on something in Snape's class. However, the girl didn't have her face buried in a book for some odd reason. She was rushing out of the Dungeon as fast as she could, and looked absolutely furious. "Cassandra, wait up! What's wrong?"

She stopped immediately and turned toward Harry. "What the Hell do you want now?" she snapped angrily. Something was obviously bothering her, judging by the tone in her voice and the look on her face. "I know what happened to my mirror." Her dark eyes were blazing with fury. "Lisa told me everything."

"What mirror?" asked Harry in a mock-innocent tone, trying to throw the angry girl off.

Cassandra gave Harry a dirty look. "Don't play dumb with me, Potter; I know better! I _thought_ you and your friends were too good to be true...I was a fool to think that anyone could be that trustworthy. Oh shit...I even let you look in my Pensieve! What was I thinking!" The anger had worn off her face. Now she just looked like she was tremendously upset. The fire had left her eyes and had been replaced with a couple of tears. "When I asked you if you'd seen it, why did you lie straight to my face, and say you hadn't? You could never understand how important that mirror is to me…not in a million years!"

Harry felt absolutely horrible. He pulled the mirror out of his bookbag and handed it back to Cassandra. "Here," he said. "Look, I'm sorry. I stumbled across it after I looked in your Pensieve and I saw someone who was very close to me inside the mirror. That was the only way I could have talked to him or to anyone else I'd lost that I miss terribly."

The look on Cassandra Snape's face said everything. That was the exact same reason she wanted that mirror back in her possession. "Apology accepted. I probably would have stolen it had I been in your place." She held out her hand and said, "No hard feelings?" She looked as if she was expecting to be slapped across the face.

Harry shook hands with Cassandra and said, "No hard feelings here, either--"

The invitation for friendship was cut short due to the sound that was coming from the inside of the hall...squish, splat, squish, splat, squish, splat, plip, pip, squish, splat... "What do you think it is?" Hermione asked nervously.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and said, "There's probably a leak in one of the bathrooms and it's spread throughout the hall." She looked rather adventurous for a change. "The truth is out there...anyone else care to find out what's making the sounds?"

Harry raised his hand. Ron raised his, and made Hermione raise hers. Harry thought this was going to prove to be rather amusing. "We're coming," he said.

"Wait for us!" said another voice. Celia and Josh rushed into the hallway, panting for air.

"Where _were_ you two?" asked Hermione.

"Look, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have Ebonyste while you have Snape double-time. We only have the same schedule for the Hawkbanes," said Celia. "No need to get all huffy on us, Hermione." She folded her arms and smirked at the Gryffindors.

"Yeah," said Josh. "We ran all the way from Turret Three to get here from Foreign Magic. Feel lucky to have us here with you...my heart almost burst from the long distance." Harry took one look at his Hufflepuff friend and had to agree. Josh's body was all covered in sweat, and his hair was seriously tangled. "But, I'm ready for some more action...I'm pumped up now! Not even an army of trolls could stop me!"

"Well, I'm delighted to hear that," said Cassandra smugly.

Josh and Celia jumped and pointed at the surly-looking girl. "_She's_ coming too!" When Harry nodded, the two friends said in unison, "You've _got_ to be kidding us, Harry!"

"Not at all," said Harry. He then added jokingly, "If whatever-it-is attacks us, I'm sure at least Cassandra and Hermione can handle it if we can't. I'm feeling pretty secure."

"Ditto," said Ron. "There's nothing those two can't stop. Hermione will know what it is because she'd have read about it, and Cassandra can use Dark magic if our stuff doesn't work on whatever-it-is." He looked down the hall. "Well, it's a dark corridor..."

"It would be far too easy to get separated from the group," said Celia. "Why don't we all hold hands, so we won't lose each other?" She held out her hands, hoping everyone would follow her example.

Celia's idea was a good one. Celia was between Josh and Ron. Ron was between Celia and Hermione. Hermione was between Ron and Atticus. Atticus was between Hermione and Harry. Harry was between Atticus and Cassandra. Cassandra was between Harry and Josh, although Josh was rather defiant to hold hands with Snape's niece. "Don't be such a puss, Goldman," Cassandra said as she grabbed Josh's hand. Josh whined, but he eventually shut up. As for Josh, he was between Cassandra and Celia.

Atticus asked, "So, what's the plan?"

"We're going down the hall to see what's making those sounds," said Hermione. "Cassandra thinks the bathroom there might have sprung a leak and that it's not a big deal, but I've got the feeling that it's something that might be a threat."

"Maybe it's that thing that's been killing people?" Atticus asked curiously. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? The gorgonix?"

"What's that?" Celia asked. "I've never heard of a gorgonix."

"Oh," said Atticus in a fake-sinister tone. "You can read about them in Chapter Eighty-Seven of How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming by Artemis Acheron. They kill their victims slowly and will usually shape-shift before doing so, so that you'll make a mistake about who is murdering you. They usually find a person with a weak will and make them their host until they're strong enough to emerge." He folded his arms and his violet eyes stared at his fellow students from beneath his dark sunglasses. "So, do we all still want to go down there and see what's making that squishy sound?"

Harry thought that Atticus was just trying to scare them into leaving the noise behind and forgetting about it. However, the opposite happened...now everyone was dying to know what was down the hall. "Let's go!" said Harry.

As they started off, holding hands in that circle-pattern, the sound kept getting louder. _Squish, splat, squish, splat, plip, pip, squish, splat..._

Passing down the corridor could have taken anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, but nobody was worried about the time. The hallway had gotten pitch black; the only way anyone could see was because a glowing green light was coming from Cassandra's pocket. The noise was getting a lot louder now...it sounded close. Everyone came to a halt, because they saw a shadow that was getting smaller, meaning that it was approaching them at a quick speed. _Squish, splat, squish, splat, plip, pip, squish, splat, SPLIP!_ It stopped, and then everyone heard a hiss. The lights came on, and the noisemaker was standing right in front of Harry and his friends.

The thing that had been making this racket was about the height of a cat. It had black, froglike skin, amber orb-like eyes, a rounded froglike mouth with three or four rows of needle-sharp teeth, and it had gills and fins like a lionfish, only transparent black. Its front claws had long, spidery fingers webbed together, and its feet looked a lot like a scuba-diver's flippers. It had a long, lizardlike tail, and it was standing on its hind legs. It opened its mouth and said, "How do you do?" Its voice sounded like a child who had been sucking on a lot of helium. Its tail swished back and forth, and it held out its left hand to shake with one of the students. "I'm the infamous Beast in the Bowl, but, please, I prefer to be simply called 'Beastie,' if it isn't too much trouble to ask." Everyone was gaping at the creature, very surprised indeed. Beastie then faced Cassandra and said, "I take it these people are acquaintances of yours, Miss Snape?"

Cassandra nodded, and her cheeks turned pink. "Oh, sorry guys," she said. "I forgot to introduce you properly to my colleague. Everyone, this is Beastie the toilet monster. Beastie, these people are Celia Wells, Josh Goldman, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Atticus Shadow IX, and Harry Potter."

"My word," said Beastie, looking at Harry and Atticus. "They look just like how I imagined them to be." He pointed at Atticus and said, "If he wasn't in a wheelchair, I would have sworn he was his father after taking a swig from Claire's hidden fountain." He then pointed at Harry and said, "Well, you look a lot like James, but I see Lily in you, too. Would you like to know something about your father and his friends?" Harry nodded, and Beastie smiled, showing hundreds of long, pointy teeth. "James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were pretty good friends with me. They'd ask me to terrorize people they didn't like, and they even tempted me with my favorite food...oranges."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Beastie loves citrus fruit."

"I sure do," said the slimy creature. "One of the people they'd get me to attack often was Severus Snape. In case you didn't know this already, your father wanted to make life a living Hell for that miserable fellow." Beastie smiled again. "Severus has _multitudes_ of battle scars from encounters with me. However, he'd give me oranges too...so he's not the only person I've bitten more than once."

Cassandra pulled an orange out of one of her pockets and said, "Beastie?" very sweetly. She dangled the juicy fruit in front of the monster's face, making him drool. "Can I ask you to do me a little favor?"

"Sure!" said Beastie cheerfully. "Name it, and I'll do it for the orange!" He was hopping up and down energetically, trying to swipe the fresh fruit from Cassandra's hand.

Cassandra beamed as she handed Beastie the orange. "Okay, it's not much, Beastie, but promise me that you and I will stay friends?"

"You got it, Miss Snape!" said Beastie. "Friends until one of us bites the dust!"

Cassandra looked quite pleased with herself as the toilet monster gobbled up the fruit with absolute delight. "Glad to see you enjoyed my present."

"Enjoyed is an understatement, my friend," said Beastie. He then let out a little belch and faced Harry. "So, tell me, Harry...were you really kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch team last year? Did Ginny Weasley do a sufficient job as the replacement Seeker?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Dolores Umbridge knocked me out of Quidditch last year, but Ginny did a really good job." He then added, "My friend, Ron, is Keeper and he's going to be a sensation this year once Quidditch season begins."

"That's strange," muttered Beastie in his funny little voice. His slimy chin was resting on one of his webbed hands. "Didn't Lucinda give you a new broomstick and ask you to help the Hawkbane Quidditch team come to a grand and victorious beginning?"

"Who?" asked Harry. _Who's Lucinda?_

"Lucinda Snitchgrass, your Hawkbane," Beastie said in a bored tone. "She's in charge of starting up the Hawkbane team. Of course, the Hawkbane's star students get first choice of position. If you want to be Seeker for a Hogwarts Quidditch team, or play Quidditch at all, I suggest you run over to Turret Twelve as soon as you get the chance...say, after dinner?" Beastie bared his teeth again in a teasing manner. "Start heading toward the Great Hall, students. Your dinner awaits you."

"You can't tell us what to do," Josh said shakily. Harry turned around to see that his Hufflepuff friend was trembling, probably afraid of the pint-sized monster standing before him, waving. "You don't know when that bell's going to ring!"

Beastie beamed and held up a long, webbed finger. _Ring!_ He folded his slippery arms and said, "Oh yeah, Aussie boy? Just exactly how long do you think I've been occupying the bathroom fixtures here, anyway? Tell me, I'm _dying_ to know." He then faced the students and said, "By the way, I'm getting hungry, too. I hope nobody minds if I sit down and eat alongside you fine students."

"Oh, that's okay!" said Celia. "You're so cute, you can sit in my lap, Beastie! Please, let me get a towel first. Sorry, little guy, but I just don't want you dripping dirty toilet water on me..."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

The Soulcatcher and the Hawkbane Quidditch Team

"Well, _that_ was fun," said Ron. "We've made two new friends today, neither people I would have dreamed of being on our side; a toilet monster and a girl that not only gets hurt a lot, but practices the Dark Arts. Welcome to the group, Beastie and Cassandra. It's probably going to be a bit different with you guys here, but we're glad to have you." He took another sip of his pumpkin juice after he finished his small speech, and then proceeded toward his biscuit.

Cassandra was blushing. "I'm flattered," she said. Harry knew that she was actually quite surprised that someone had accepted her. He saw her look around to see if anyone was snickering or acting weird around her. _After all that's happened, she _**_still_**_ doesn't fully trust us!_ Harry realized this with a sickening feeling. Then again, he couldn't blame Cassandra for being suspicious. After all, she had been betrayed by people she believed to be her friends (and it had been more than once, she had told him about other encounters of a similar sort in Furrier's class), had seen her best friend die of an illness with no cure when she was only ten, and there was a rather high probability that Snape's cynical view of people had rubbed off on his niece over time. There were a lot of skeletons in Cassandra's closet, but she had made it this far, hadn't she?

"Truthfully, it almost scares me how quickly you all accepted me as not only an equal but a comrade." She smiled shyly and said, "I'm heading over to Turret Twelve after we're all finished eating. Is anyone else going to come?" She took a bite out of her roast, but she hadn't even touched her pasta; she simply shoved it to the side.

"Are you going to eat that, Cassandra?" Celia asked. "Because if you're not, Beastie said he's a big fan of spaghetti." She gulped her berry juice in her mouth and then held her plate over for Cassandra to toss her unwanted food. Once Beastie started eating the spaghetti with a look of true bliss on his face, Celia added, "I've got plans to meet with Furrier right after dinner, sorry."

"Oh," said Cassandra. "I understand completely." She then looked around and asked, "Anyone else? I'm sure that once people realize that Snitchgrass is one of the people in charge of starting the Hawkbane Quidditch team, the best of Hogwarts that's in the program will be flocking over there, wanting to try out. They'll only accept the best people, of course, but still...chances are that in the case of the Hawkbane program, it will be a 'first come, first serve' type of service. I personally want to see who's got the guts to go up to Snitchgrass and see what the requirements are to join the team-in-progress." She took a bite out of her dessert and said, "Well, I'm done." She left her plate and disappeared into the crowd, where it was next to impossible to spot her again.

"Do we really want someone like _that_ hanging out with us, Harry?" Josh asked. "Sure, she's pretty cool once you get to know her, but still...what if the rumors about her are true? I've heard from Lisa that she's been caught drinking vials of _blood_ in some of the girls' bathrooms before! All of us could get into a lot of trouble for being caught with her. Do we want that? There's something about her that I don't trust; something that gives me the impression she's going to try to hurt us...very badly. She's dangerous, that's what I'm guessing, and why do you think Lewn is my Hawkbane? It's because I'm a Clairvoyant, okay? When I see something, it is hardly ever wrong." Josh's face had turned pale. The pastry he had been holding was squashed to a pulp.

"Josh, calm down," said Celia. She looked worried...terrified. "How do you--"

"--know she can't be trusted?" Josh finished Celia's train of thought and said, "Well, for one thing, I have had several visions of Cassandra by a coffin in a cemetery. The names on the headstones coincide with the names of the victims of the alleged gorgonix. I'm sure I'm not the only one here that's heard the rumors about Cassandra Snape and Professor Ahsimal...it's obvious he's more than a Hawkbane to her, and she's more than just another student to him. They're obviously close. Oh, and where do I begin with all the accounts of people seeing her not only reading about, but actually practicing the Dark Arts? She's a freak, people! Can't you see that?"

"Maybe she's got the gorgonix in her," said Atticus. He had a grim look to him.

"There you go with that damn gorgonix again!" Josh said. "Why can't you realize that the whole gorgonix thing is just a cover-up, and that she's doing this in her free will! The Daily Prophet wasn't totally off when they said Snape was the murderer...I'm guessing his psycho niece is the guilty party."

"Now, Josh," said Celia, putting a radish in her mouth. "We can't be _totally_ sure Cassandra's guilty."

"So, we can be sure she's _innocent_?" Josh retorted cynically. "Celia, it all fits together perfectly! I guess a silly girl like you wouldn't understand the signals that Cassandra Snape has been giving off since this year began."

Celia stood up quickly, accidentally dropping Beastie (who made a whimpering sound as he hit the floor with a very wet-sounding thud) "You know what? I really don't like your attitude toward me and the rest of us, Joshua Goldman! Sure, you're cute, smart, and popular, but you can be such an asshole at times!" Her usually fair skin was beet red from fury, and her eyes were narrowed. She didn't look sweet right now; she was irate and furious.

Josh looked quite taken-back by this. "So, this means we're through?" he said weakly in a teary voice. His eyes had begun to water. Clearly, he still had feelings for the pretty Ravenclaw.

"We didn't go out, Josh...not even once!" she shouted. "It never happened!" Josh rushed out of the Great Hall in tears, and didn't look back. Celia then picked up the aching toilet monster and said, "I'm terribly sorry for dropping you, Beastie. Are you all right?" Beastie nodded, announced that he would be spending a couple of hours in the prefects' bathroom before retiring for the night, and then walked off. "That boy has got some nerve," Celia growled. "Harry, I'm glad that you, Ron, and Atticus are way more understanding and can accept the fact that boys and girls can be just friends if they want to be!" She then grabbed Hermione and walked away from the Hawkbane table to go sit with the Ravenclaws. She made a seat for Hermione, and placed herself in between Isis and an acquaintance of Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's...Luna Lovegood. "Hi, Luna! What's up? Is there anything interesting in there?"

"The Loch Ness monster got spotted again," Luna said dreamily, looking at her copy of the monthly Quibbler. She got them for free, because her father was the head editor of the paper. "And some secret information about the legendary Shadow family was brought to the surface. Sure, everyone knows that they descend from Medusa, but did you know that the Shadows can turn people into gym socks by simply rubbing their nose?"

"Oh, give me a break..." said Isis. "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard!"

Hermione said very loudly, "Malfoy likes boys a lot more than he does girls."

"Now, you could run a _very_ good article on that!" said Isis. "Everyone at Hogwarts, and anyone who knows the Malfoy family will want to read about Draco and Harry!"

"Isis, no!" said Celia. "That would make Harry look bad, too! It would backfire!"

After dinner was finally over, Harry, Ron, and Atticus headed over toward the Advanced Astrology classroom. Surely Snitchgrass would be in her typical spot, like she always seemed to be. Harry's Hawkbane was easy to reach, and it only took the three boys a couple of minutes to walk (in Atticus's case, wheel) from the Great Hall to Turret Twelve. The doors were surprisingly unlocked. Harry was really glad he didn't have to be accompanied by a teacher anymore...Nezura had talked to Dumbledore about giving the Hawkbane students special privileges because they were in Advanced Placement and were being taught at a very stressful level. Dumbledore had acquiesced to Nezura's request for giving these specific students a little bit more freedom. The only Hawkbane student that needed to be watched by a teacher was Rick (because he was only fourteen while all the others in the program were at least sixteen), but he could also be watched by his other peers in Advanced Placement.

"Say, Harry," said Atticus. "You'll be trying out for Seeker, right?"

"You better believe it, Atticus," said Harry cheerily. He jumped up in the air in excitement, pantomiming trying to catch the golden Snitch. "I can't wait to play Quidditch again...especially for a school team!"

"Yeah," said Atticus gloomily, looking down at his motionless legs. "You're lucky you can play. The only thing I can do in Quidditch games is sit in the seats and root for my favorite team. I almost wish I could trade my gift of petrification for a pair of legs that would actually move and do their job. It looks like a lot of fun to get out there. I both envy and pity you at the same time." Atticus sighed. "You and I both have to deal with publicity all the time. Lately it's been more of you than me, and I'm not complaining to be out of the limelight for a change, and it must be frustrating dealing with all of that pressure. That is why I pity you. You can do much more strenuous activities than I'll ever be able to do, and for that I look upon you with jealousy. I hope that you don't take that the wrong way, though. I want you and Ron to make the team, and I'll be out there at the auditions, cheering you two on."

"Well, well! If it isn't Shadow, Potty, and Weasel!" Draco had appeared right behind Atticus without anyone realizing it. He had also brought Rick and Marcus along with him, too. Marcus was wearing an earring in his right ear, and Rick was wearing a sweatshirt that was way too big for him over his baggy jeans.

"Atticus, I don't see why a classy guy like you would be tempted to hang around Weasley. Does his smell not bother you too much, or is your nose just as paralyzed as your legs?"

Atticus sighed and said, "I smell auras, not scents." He let out a long yawn and said, "So, Draco, I take it that you, Marcus, and Rick are trying out for the Hawkbane team as well?"

"The _Hawkbane_ team?" Rick asked quizzically. "Maybe Marcus and Draco, but I'm only trying out for one of the new openings in the Slytherin team. You see, if Draco gets made Seeker for Hawkbane, then I'll be able to take his place among the Slytherins, since I'm pretty good at Snitch-catching." He held up his broom and said, "My mum and dad bought me a Soulcatcher before I came to Hogwarts this year, and I've been practicing every day since I was three. You see, my older brother, Damien, taught me all there is to know about Quidditch. Once they see me out there, I hope they'll be begging me to join. Quidditch is my passion!"

"Well, Rick," said Ron. "It would be pretty funny if you didn't make it, considering how often you practice and considering it's your passion." Rick didn't seem to think so. His cheeks turned a pale pink and he rushed over toward Snape's classroom.

"Damn," said Draco. "Now one of us has got to go follow him to make sure he doesn't get himself killed by a raving lunatic," he said with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I can't play Quidditch anyway, so I guess I'll look out for Rick."

"Thanks a lot, Shadow. Draco and I really owe you one!" said Marcus, giving Atticus a thumbs up. Atticus started heading toward the Dungeon, trying to catch up with the Fourth Year. "Remember to look out for the gorgonix!" Marcus teased in a friendly way. He then turned to face Harry and Ron. "What positions are you guys trying to fill? Seeker and Keeper?" When Harry told him that was correct, Marcus said, "Draco's trying out for Seeker too, and I'm beginning to fancy myself as a Beater."

Finally, the four boys made it to Turret Twelve. Marcus pushed the other three out of the way and rushed into the Advanced Astrology classroom as quickly as he could. "Professor Snitch grass!"

Snitchgrass had been asleep at her desk, but having her name called had most certainly woken her up. "Is zis about za Quidditch team, boys?" Her arms were folded and she said, "Shall ve go down to za field so I can see vith my own eyes vat potential you 'ave?" She turned to Harry and said, "I am only in charge of za recruiting part. The actual judging vill be done by a few people. Today's za last chance to be considered for qualification, and I vill have za names of za people zat make za team posted outside my door first zing in za morning."

After walking out to the field, Ron, Marcus, Draco, and Harry auditioned for their requested positions. Harry had used his Firebolt instead of his Soulcatcher because he had no idea what his newer broomstick was capable of quite yet. Each student who was trying out had to play against Snitchgrass personally, and it was harder than it sounded. Snitchgrass had played several positions for numerous professional teams in her lifetime, and had even coached the Kyoto Tsunamis before.

When Ron went one-on-one with Snitchgrass, he failed miserably. The skill of a woman that age was shocking; someone would have thought she would have gotten arthritis by this time. Each time Snitchgrass played Chaser, the Quaffles got right past Ron…not once did he block one.

Draco and Snitchgrass went out on the field, trying to catch the Snitch. Draco also failed, but not quite as miserably. He was the one that spotted the Snitch, but the Astrology teacher seemed to realize the look in the Slytherin's eyes immediately. All she did was reach her hand up, and the Snitch landed in her palm. The look on the defeated face of Draco Malfoy said everything; he was absolutely humiliated that someone tense like Professor Snitchgrass could have thrown him off so quickly. It was all over in five minutes.

Marcus was up next. There were howls, guffaws, and screams as Marcus went onto the field. "It's been ages since I've seen a Cantarus out here!" someone shouted. "He looks like his father!" Marcus did a splendid job as a Beater, and actually hit one of the Bludgers right into Snitchgrass's stomach. The teacher flinched, but then hit the same Bludger right back at Marcus brutally. He was defeated just like everyone else, but Snitchgrass assured Marcus that he'd most certainly be a Beater for the Hawkbane team.

As Harry stepped out onto the field, he saw seven hooded figures watching his every move from the seats. "Who are they?" he asked his Hawkbane.

"Oh, zey are just za judges, 'Arry," Snitchgrass said dismissively. "Forget abou' zem an' concentrate only on 'ow vell you vill do against me. So, shall ve begin?" This was the first time since the Welcoming Feast that Snitchgrass had looked this cheery. It was just a little disturbing seeing someone in her early sixties riding a broom like a nimble Seventh Year. For a moment, Harry didn't see the frizzy silver hair and wrinkles, but saw a younger version of his Hawkbane…her hair was tied tightly in two buns and it appeared to be mousy brown, and her pale eyes were like a cat's. "Vat are you vaiting vor, 'Arry? Za game between us 'as already begun, and za judges are keeping score! I vant to see you make za team, but I am _not_ going to mollycoddle you, even if you _are_ my star pupil!"

"Understood, Professor; you've made your point crystal clear," Harry snarled as he faced against his Hawkbane in this one-on-one Quidditch game. He hopped onto his Firebolt and then said, "Well, I'm ready when you are!"

"I vas ready minutes ago," Snitchgrass said icily as she rose up in the air on her Monsoon Storm. Her catlike aqua eyes leered at Harry in an almost bestial way…it was as if her mind was completely set on victory and nothing else. Once her feet left the ground, the seven hooded "judges" roared with satisfied applause.

"Give 'em all you've got, Lucinda!" one of them shouted, and then blew a whistle.

A second judge waved a Kyoto Tsunamis flag and said, "Don't screw up. Your record in professional Quidditch is phenomenal, so don't let some punk kid ruin your _flawless_ reputation!"

"That one challenging Lucinda right now's not just _any_ punk kid," a third judge said, releasing the golden Snitch. "That's Harry Potter."

"I know that, you dolt!" the second judge said, as she (it had to be a woman, because it was a silky, American, feminine voice resonating from behind the hood) punched the third one. "Still, I think Lucinda can handle Potter. Nobody yet has been able to catch the Snitch or beat a Bludger, or even stop or chase the Quaffle as well as her. She's a legend."

"Stop it," Snitchgrass said as she started scurrying about, trying to locate the Snitch. Harry could already see it. "You're making me blush, Morgan."

The judge with the Kyoto Tsunamis flag then let out a loud belch. "Oh, sorry about that one, Lucinda," she said. "Potter, you don't stand a chance! Lucinda Snitchgrass is the Queen of the Quidditch games for the twentieth century…do you seriously _think_ you'll catch the Snitch before she does?"

"Nobody so far 'as been able to defeat me out 'ere," Snitchgrass crowed. "If you vin, 'Arry, not only vill you get the position of your choice, but za judges vill tell you 'eu zey are."

"I'll go ahead and give away my identity, if you don't mind, Lucinda!" the second judge, Morgan, said in a rather amused tone. She pulled her hood back and unbuttoned her black outer robe. She was dressed in a teal v-neck cardigan sweater and a pair of khaki corduroy pants that had a lot of pockets. Her olive skin had very few wrinkles, and she just had a few traces of gray in her dark-brown hair roots. "The name's Morgan..._Andromache_ Morgan. I'm Snitchgrass's biggest fan."

The six other judges didn't seem quite so outgoing, and the one that had released the Snitch in the first place was beginning to hide behind everyone else. "We're rooting for you, Lucy!" Morgan shouted, making the other six jump in surprise.

"Yeah, sure," a dull, droning voice said, coming from another hooded figure, this one a lot taller than the others. "I came all the way from Lazulien University to see some pipsqueak beat up a has-been champion? And she even gets her own cheerleading squad? I thought this was auditions, not a damn tournament, Andromache!"

Morgan raised a finger up in the air and then sighed. "I'll support Lucinda Snitchgrass to the very end. Whatever decisions she makes, I'll not only support, but I'll follow her example. You see, she's been my idol since I was a student. Potter's lucky to have her for his Hawkbanes."

"Agreed," said the dull voice again. "But will you just _shut up_ so I can watch the audition?" Morgan gave the tall figure a rude gesture before sitting back down.

Harry and Snitchgrass looked frantically for the Snitch everywhere on the field…and then it was right in front of Harry. He seized the opportunity and caught it before his Hawkbane could. He showed the Snitch off to the judges to clarify his victory. The looks on not only Morgan's face, but Snitchgrass's as well, were absolutely priceless; both were astonished. "No questions about it," Snitchgrass said. "I zink ve vound our two Seekers."

"_Two?_" Malfoy asked, surprised. "There's only one Seeker per team, Professor!"

"Not for za type of Quidditch za Hawkbane team vill be doing…zis is za Transylvanian vay, and it is one of za hardest types to master. Vi else vould I 'ave picked it?" Snitchgrass beamed. "Velcome to za team, 'Arry!" She then straightened herself up and said stiffly, "As vor za rest of you, I vill post virst zing tomorrow za names and positions of za players vor za Hawkbane team. It vill be easy to vind, because it vill be on my Turret's door."

First thing in the morning, Harry got up. He even skipped breakfast to see who had made the Hawkbane Quidditch team. And, just like she had promised, Snitchgrass had nailed the new roster onto the opening door to Turret Twelve, and his name was amongst the others:

The First Hawkbane Quidditch Team

Seekers:

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

Beaters:

Marcus Cantarus

Josh Goldman

Chasers:

Lisa Turpin

Celia Wells

Isis Acheron

Keeper:

Ron Wesley

It seemed like it would be a very effective team, if everyone cooperated. However, so much could go wrong so quickly. For example, what if Malfoy wanted to always be the better of the two Seekers? Competition amongst other team members wasn't a wise move; it usually ended in disaster.

"So, I take it you're quite pleased with yourself for making the team?" said Atticus. He had skipped breakfast to see the list, along with all the other Hawkbane students; Harry and his friend weren't alone up there by any means.

"Snitchgrass told me that I was the only person who beat her on the field..." Harry wasn't able to finish.

"'Arry, Professor Skylarke vants to 'ave a vord vith you," Snitchgrass said. She then took a bite out of her bagel and got back to eating in her room before students came in. "Turret Fifteen."

Harry followed Snitchgrass's directions to Turret Fifteen and knocked timidly on the door. "It's unlocked," Skylarke said in his elegant voice. "Feel free to come on in. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, if you can."

Harry took a seat inside the Curses & Rootwork classroom and faced Skylarke. Several herbs were drying everywhere, but there was a sickening-sweet smell in the room…decomposing flesh of some kind. "Why did you call me here?" Harry asked. "Is this about the Quidditch team?"

"To some extent," Skylarke said smoothly. Something was glowing in the teacher's hand, and then he threw the object to Harry. "Your first game is tomorrow, and I want to see the best of our school do well against the other four Houses. If all goes well, then the Hawkbane team will get to travel to other arenas and countries…this is an international program. Headmaster Dumbledore has even hired a coach for the eight of you. Would you like to meet him?" Skylarke's olive green eyes were piercingly cold as he said this. Something must have bitten him, because he flinched for an instant before he called the coach into the room.

Harry recognized the young man immediately. "Phoebus!" he shouted, remembering the delivery guy from that summer. "How are you?"

"Just _peachy_," Phoebus said in a laidback manner. "I got sick, and then, here I am!"

Skylarke groaned. "Phoebus was one of Professor Ahsimal's favorite students, you understand. He does friends and pets favors like this when something happens to them."

Phoebus nodded and then said, "Say, _Professor_? Would it be okay if you left your classroom for a while? I'd like to talk to Harry in private, if it's alright with you."

Skylarke looked offended by Phoebus's suggestion that _he_ leave his own classroom so that _they_ could have a private conversation. "Want me to leave, do you?" he snarled and then pointed a finger at the door. "This is my domain, and I have control here, Stellian. _You_ leave!"

"Look, I was only teasing you!" Phoebus said. "Can't you take a little joke?"

"Get out of my room, Phoebus Stellian!" Skylarke boomed. After Harry and Phoebus left the classroom, Skylarke slammed the door shut.

"Well, I'm glad _that's_ over and done with…Skylarke's got such a _temper_!" Phoebus said lightheartedly. "Harry, you know Hawkbane plays against Slytherin tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Harry said. Phoebus went on to show Harry the entire plan, and then asked if it would be too much of a hassle to tell everyone else. "I've got to unpack my things, and I really don't have the time today…there's so much I need to get done. Would you mind too terribly?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders and told Phoebus that he'd tell the others of the plan.

Dinner was pretty good, and everyone was sitting together…except one person; Josh was sitting with his fellow Hufflepuffs, glaring angrily at Celia and giving a dirty look to Cassandra. "Doesn't that bother you?" Celia asked Cassandra.

"Not at all," Cassandra said. "Would you please pass the cranberry sauce this way?"

Hermione handed Cassandra the dish and then asked Atticus, "Could you help me with something? Atticus, I need your help."

'_Oh no,'_ thought Harry, '_anything but _**_that_**_!'_

"Atticus," Hermione said. "I've started a Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare, also known as S.P.E.W. and I was wondering…would you like to join?"

"Sure," Atticus said. "I think having house elves is a good idea, if the elf in question is enjoying the work. They can very easily become abused...take Dobby for an example." Several people at the table gave Draco a dirty look.

"What are you leering at me for?" he snarled. "Dobby got so annoying, that you couldn't help but _want_ to throw a rock at him. If you lived at my place, Granger, you probably wouldn't be so friendly with house elves." He slicked his blonde hair back and said, "I'm glad that I made Seeker for Hawkbane. Rick, how did you do?"

"Just great," Rick said. "I'm Slytherin's new Seeker, taking your place!"

Draco and Marcus both patted Rick on the back and ruffled his hair. Then they both said in rather teasing voices, "Oh, we're both so proud of baby Ricky! He's really growing up!" Draco then laughed at his own joke and said, "Pretty soon, you won't need us escorting you everywhere…and you won't need us to change your diapers, either." He was having a lot of fun embarrassing his younger friend. "You're becoming such a big boy!"

"Aw…" said Rick. "Both of you should shut up; I'm not in the mood." He then picked up his Transfigurations homework and started working…and even moved away from the table.

Harry told the Hawkbane team all about the plan Phoebus had given. "We'll beat Slytherin!" Celia said. "I just know we'll win!"

"It's going to feel weird going against our own House, Marcus," said Draco. "I wonder if we'll get labeled as traitors for switching teams!"

"Oh, they'll get over it," Marcus said. "I'll go easy on Rick because he's our friend."

Cassandra had occupied herself with her cranberry sauce up until now, but then put her attention toward the rest of the crowd. "Damn," she said. "Now I don't know which side I'm supposed to support. Sure, I'm in the Hawkbane program, but my uncle is in charge of the Slytherin house. This is such a dilemma…maybe I won't go at all. That would solve everything."

"Oh my gosh!" Celia said. "Look at this…my name's in the paper again!" She held up an article in the school paper, written by none other than Lisa Turpin:

The Latest with the Hawkbane Program

By: Lisa Turpin

School celebrities like Celia Wells and Harry Potter have been brought together with six other people in the Hawkbane program (including yours truly!) to form a team that will not only play the other four Hogwarts houses, but will be competing in other arenas in Britain, as well as the possibility of traveling to places like Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Lazulien University, Aevumis University, Swanlyre (a rather expensive private school near Dublin), and the Salem Academy of Sorcery…virtually all over the world! Of course everyone at Hogwarts has extremely high expectations for the Hawkbane team. "I always knew this day would come," says Professor Lucinda Snitchgrass (Advanced Astrology). "Such fine students, and I have no regrets on who I put on the team. Cantarus and Potter especially have a knack for Quidditch. I'm looking forward to seeing them as a Beater and a Seeker…with people like this, victory is in the air…I can almost smell it!" Of course, she has a heavy accent, but this is what I think she said.

Everyone is just as excited as Professor Snitchgrass, and can't wait for the season to begin. All the students and teachers at our wonderful school are antsy with anticipation…of course we all want to see the best of the best succeed in whatever they can, whether its academics, arts, or athletics.

"Wow," Cassandra said. "Marcus got mentioned, too. See, there's even a picture of the new team." However, she didn't sound too thrilled about all of this.

"Is something wrong, Cassandra?" Hermione asked, a bit concerned about what was bothering the girl.

"I tried out for Keeper, too," Cassandra said. "I even got to look at the scores, and I did a _lot_ better than Ron. The only reason I wasn't allowed to play was because there's a school rule that states vampires can't play Quidditch."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean to tell me that Snitchgrass snubbed you only because you're undead?"

Cassandra nodded and then sighed. "Oh well; I wanted to join the Dueling Club, anyway...it gives me a chance to improve and sharpen my true talent with the Dark Arts." She left her dirty dishes and then headed over toward the Slytherin Common Room. Marcus, Rick, and Draco followed, but they didn't walk with Cassandra because they were a bit spooked. None of them wanted to be labeled as friends of a bloodsucker, and it was known all around the school that Cassandra Snape and Professor Ahsimal were vampires. "I'll see you at the game Saturday."

Everyone was excited about the first Hawkbane Quidditch game; their first opponents would be the Slytherin team, only because Slytherin had been school champions from the previous year. Harry and Draco were in the lead, Marcus and Josh behind them, and then Celia, Lisa, and Isis…and then Ron. Everyone was nervous, of course, but the thing that got the Slytherin/Hawkbanes going was the fact that Rick Fallowin was now the Slytherin Seeker. Both Draco and Marcus waved as the team of their House passed by. However, the two Slytherin Beaters (Crabbe and Goyle) only waved to Draco. They both shoved Marcus and muttered, "Traitor," under their breath.

"Assholes," Marcus grumbled back, clutching his arm where he had gotten bruised. "Josh, we're going to have to teach those two a lesson!"

"I agree," Josh said, swinging his bat playfully. "Let's give Slytherin a rude awakening!"

"Just go easy on our friend," Ron said. "Josh, you and Marcus look out for Rick, okay?"

Harry was absolutely thrilled as he was out here, waiting to begin. He was going to test out his Soulcatcher broomstick for the first time. '_Okay, Soulcatcher_,' he thought. '_Let's see what you can do!'_ He sat down, and got ready. Everyone else was prepared for the game, and so it began.

The crowd roared as the Hawkbane team entered the field. Professor Twitchett's School Orchestra and Band played a song as they rushed out, ready for action. Hermione waved in the band seats, playing a clarinet. Atticus was with her, playing a trombone. Up in the front of the Slytherin bleachers were Cassandra and Beastie, watching the game in a half-amused manner.

"Kick some ass!" Cassandra shouted. Harry wasn't sure if she was cheering for the Slytherins or the Hawkbanes…apparently, Cassandra was just as unsure, because she kept looking left and right for Slytherins and Hawkbanes. Her face had turned a rather interesting shade of pink in the cheeks.

Suddenly, Harry felt a Bludger hit him hard in the stomach. Usually, he would have fallen off of his broom, but the Soulcatcher wouldn't let him go; it had some sort of advanced charm placed on it. Harry looked up and then saw that Crabbe wasn't too happy that his hit hadn't knocked an opposing Seeker off his broomstick.

"You can't knock me off, stupid!" Harry shouted with pleasure. He then plunged down to the bottom to catch up with Malfoy; it was obvious that he had spotted the Snitch. However, Rick tried to do the same thing.

"No you don't, Fallowin!" Josh shouted, and tried to interfere with Rick's performance. For a Fourth Year, Rick Fallowin was quite a phenomenon…a blur to the audience, he was so quick.

"Catch the damn Snitch!" Cassandra shouted, raising a black-clad arm in the air.

'_I'm really beginning to wonder _**_who_**_ it is she's cheering for_,' Harry thought angrily. '_The way she's rooting, it could be for Draco, Rick _**_or_**_ me.'_

He and Malfoy made it all the way to the grassy floor of the bottom of the arena, and followed Rick. Suddenly, someone shouted in a frantic voice, "Rick! Look out!" It was Marcus, and his face was twisted with horror; he had aimed one of the Bludgers at Goyle, but even though the Slytherin Beaters were pretty dumb, they knew when to move out of the way…now it was aiming straight for Rick.

"Look out for what?" Rick said, confused. He then gasped, because he saw the Bludger, but it was too late. It hit his left leg, and everyone in the stadium could hear the bones crack.

"Rick, I'm so sorry! That was meant for Goyle, not you!" Marcus said.

"Oh, quit complaining, Cantarus," Josh said. "Hawkbane's going to win, since the Seeker broke his leg."

"Shut up and mind your own business, Goldman," Marcus snarled at the Hufflepuff. Soon, a fight broke out between Marcus and Josh, so Slytherin's Seeker _and_ Hawkbane's Beaters were supposed to be disqualified for the rest of the game.

It continued like this for a long time, only Rick didn't want to give up. Even though Harry and the others could see the bone jutting out of his pants-leg, he was determined to catch the Snitch. Unfortunately for Rick, he couldn't move as swiftly as he'd been doing without a broken leg. The Snitch flew right past Malfoy's nose, so Harry _and_ Malfoy knew where it was. Rick was clueless until he caught on, finally. For five minutes, the three Seekers chased the Snitch, but then it stopped in midair for an instant. Harry seized the opportunity to end the game and gave Hawkbane their first victory. However, Malfoy got the same idea and caught the Snitch at the same instant as Harry.

"Well, Potter, this was a pretty interesting outcome, wasn't it?" he said smugly. "Two adversaries, two different Houses, one victory for the same team…I never would have predicted the ending to be like this!"

It all ended quickly, and 75 points were added to all four Houses, because of two reasons…the first was that Hawkbane couldn't be awarded points due to the fact that it technically wasn't a House. The other reason was simply that the Hawkbane team consisted of the best of the four Houses anyway. The crowd roared, and started chanting the names of their favorite players. "Malicious Malfoy!" "Powerful Potter!" "Kick ass Cantarus!" "Wonderful Wells!" "King Weasley!" (Ron groaned; that was a reference to last year's "Weasley is our King" song) "Gorgeous Goldman!" "Terrible Turpin!" "Amazing Acheron!" All of the First Years cheered as the victorious team walked out of the stadium.

Cassandra threw down a banner she had made violently. It tore in half. Harry looked up in the bleachers to see something wasn't right. Cassandra seemed to be upset, so then Harry realized with disappointment that she had probably been cheering on the Slytherin team. '_I am really going to have to ask her about this,'_ he thought. '_Wait until I get to her face-to-face…'_


	11. Chapter 10

Hi everyone! Professor Skylarke here! I'm raising the rating on this story to "M" because of the violence in this chapter and in future chapters! Please read and review! Thanks and enjoy!

Chapter Ten:

The Horrific Death of Professor Sebastian Argentum

"Well, I didn't expect our first game to be anything like _that_!" said Ron, as he and Harry passed a couple of First Years that wanted autographs. "You were outstanding, like usual."

The first Quidditch game the Hawkbane team had ever played had been a remarkable one. Ron hadn't let a single Quaffle inside the hoop, Marcus was able to knock three players off their brooms with only one hit to the Bludger, and the three Chasers had done a superior job...not to mention Draco had managed to catch the Snitch at the same instant as Harry, causing the crowd to roar with approval. Hawkbane had won against Slytherin (school champions until Hawkbane came along) with 540 to 50…by a landslide.

"You made quite a spectacle of yourself out there," said Celia. "We're just lucky that we're playing with that new dual-Seeker method, and got both Harry _and_ Draco on the Hawkbane team."

"True, true!" said a very happy-sounding voice. "All of you vere great!" Snitchgrass looked thrilled to see her newly-found team had scored its first victory. "'Arry, you an' Malfoy make quite ze team, you know zat?" Harry nodded, and Snitchgrass kept on talking. "You ver vonderful…absolutely _magnificent_ out zere! Honestly, ze only vay I could 'ave been any prouder vould be if you ver my own son." She patted Harry on the back and said, "Victory is sweet, eh?"

"Sure is!" said Harry, smiling at his teammates. "We came, we saw…we conquered as Hawkbanes! We are the school champions!"

"As if we didn't already know we had it in us," Draco said sarcastically. "It felt kind of odd going against Rick on the field…"

"Oh, bump that!" said Marcus as he picked up a chocolate frog. "Rick's going to be just fine once Madame Pomfrey fixes his broken leg."

Harry looked around and noticed how delighted his friends looked. He would have been thrilled if his scar wasn't hurting so badly. Cassandra was off in a corner, talking to Snape. Even though Harry knew that Snape was Cassandra's uncle (and also knew how close those two were), something in Cassandra's eyes didn't look right. She looked like she was seriously hurt and would start to cry at any moment. He heard Snape say, "Look, I know they said that they'd be here, but something turned up. When those two good-for-nothings promise to show up for something important to you...do they ever?"

"No," Cassandra said weakly. "Especially Dad. Mum tries, really she does."

"That's right," said Snape. "Now, did I miss the opportunity to sit next to you?"

"No," Cassandra's voice sounded a bit stronger now. "At least someone bothered to show up for my sake."

"Darius was cheering on Hawkbane, too, and I could have sworn this is the first Quidditch game I've seen him attend in years." Snape looked at his niece and said, "I guess he sees you as the daughter he never had, judging by his actions. It was clear that he was proud of Malfoy, too. At least, for a while."

Harry rolled his eyes. Nobody in the crowd had come just to watch _him_, or had they? Nezura rushed over toward Harry and said, "You and Draco were superb!" She gave Harry a thumbs-up and asked if she could take a picture of both of Hawkbane's first Seekers. "Would you two mind terribly if I asked you to pretend you actually get along in the photo? Logic tells me that I won't be your teacher any longer than a year, and I'd like to have some photos of my friends…or should I say rescuers?" She laughed girlishly as Harry and Draco posed for the photograph. "Thanks a lot!" piped Nezura, very happily.

"'Arry, you did vell," said Snitchgrass, still rather excited for her fresh team. "I vant you to know zat I vas cheering you on in za crowd, and zo vas your friend Atticus." She beamed and said. "Atticus vas rather excited about za game. I vish you could 'ave seen 'ow he vas acting…it vas very funny." She hugged Harry and said, "Keep it up, 'Arry. I expect _vonderful_ zings of you." She then disappeared into the crowd.

Harry looked around for somebody to talk to; he wanted to brag about his win to someone. _Anyone_ would do...even one of the Hawkbanes. Ahsimal was in deep conversation with Snape and Skylarke, Lewn was talking to Snitchgrass and Parenein, Leir was joking around with Draco and Marcus, and Furrier…Professor Furrier was just walking around, swishing his tail. "Professor Furrier!" Harry said. "Wait up!"

Furrier halted and turned to face Harry. "What now, Potter?" He really didn't look like he had enjoyed himself out here. His glasses were a bit foggy, his fur was a complete mess, and his scarf was pretty loose.

"I was wondering if you had seen the game," Harry said calmly, trying not to upset Furrier even more.

"What do you think? Of course I saw you and Malfoy catch the Snitch at the same instant. Good choreography, lad…but I've seen a lot better. I'm sure Wolfgang Leir could still beat the shit out of both of you. You see, he played Seeker in his Third Year, and that was the only year I can remember that Ravenclaw got the School Quidditch Cup." Furrier's eyes were fiery, and his cat face didn't look very happy right about now. Something was troubling him because he was very wary of everyone.

"Wow," said Harry. "I never knew Professor Leir was _that_ good!"

"He's a legend in Ravenclaw, and quite the hero," said Furrier. "I know about you and your friends, and how you wander off at night sometimes to investigate stuff you should best leave alone. You're not the first, and you most certainly won't be the last…but did you know that my trio of friends did the exact same thing not only when we attended Hogwarts, but when we all went off to Lazulien University together?" He started to lick his paw. "We were Seventh Years when Severus Snape became Potions Master. A few years later, one of my friends got the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and kept it until the near-end of the 1991 to 1992 school year. That same year, I lost whatever hope I had of being able to regain my human form. I am a cursed man, stuck in a cat body. Potter, you could _never_ understand what it's like to be trapped like this!"

Well, at least Harry knew what was bothering Furrier now. "Professor, I'm terribly sorry about your misfortune. Is there anything that anyone can do to remove the hex and get you back to normal?"

Furrier's fluffy face scowled at Harry, his spectacles tilted down to his pink nose. "Ha! That's a good one, Potter…if you find a way, let me know. The only person that could remove it is the one person that put it on me to begin with. And guess what? He's long dead! I think I'm stuck this way for all eternity, and there's no way out. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to teach an Animagery class when _everyone_ wants to pick me up, or rub me behind the ears, or kick me, or stroke my neck?" The cat's eyes narrowed. "Someone even threw me out of the window before, _after_ they dressed me up in doll clothes. I'm absolutely defenseless, and it's all my former friend's fault!"

"Well, is there anything _I_ can do, Skip?" Harry asked, remembering that students in the Hawkbane program were allowed to call Hawkbane teachers by their first names.

Furrier's tail fluffed up and started to swish, and his ears lowered. "For a start, _never_ call me 'Skip'; my name is Alexander. And secondly, can you bring Quirrell back from the dead? I seriously doubt it, unless…" he trailed off and said, "Potter, why don't we continue this conversation some other time? I need to use that damn litter box right about now rather seriously. Someone gave me some spoiled fish and it isn't settling too well."

Harry moved out of Furrier's way as quickly as he could, not wanting to trip the feline teacher. He then saw Ahsimal had walked over toward Cassandra, and had something in a bag that read in unmistakable ruby red letters **Nezura's curiosity**. He also overheard Ahsimal say something like, "Oh, come on, Cassandra. Please, show me a smile?" He then saw the albino teacher open the bag and put something in Cassandra Snape's hands that was wrapped in black crêpe paper. "Make sure nobody sees this. Someone might question the contents."

"You went all the way to Occasion Alley to get me this?" Cassandra said shakily. "Darius, I don't know what to say…this might be dangerous goods." She kissed the pure white teacher on the cheek. Had he any red blood in his system, Ahsimal would have most certainly been blushing. "You didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I had to," Ahsimal whispered, apparently hoping nobody heard him. "But be careful with that. I don't want anyone giving you any trouble, my dear." He looked left and right with his exotic eyes, which froze on Harry for a brief second. He then turned to face Cassandra and said, "Tell nobody that isn't trustworthy."

Cassandra stood there after Ahsimal rushed off, and put the black object in her pocket. Harry walked up casually toward her and said, "Hi, Cassandra."

"Oh," said Cassandra in a surprised voice. "Hi, Harry." She gulped and then said, "Good game tonight, wasn't it?"

"Sure was," Harry agreed. "Say, Cassandra, I couldn't help but see you talking to Professor Ahsimal, and I was wondering…is there something going on between you two?"

"Something going on…between Darius and me?" Cassandra said hesitantly. "What would give you an idea like that?"

"I saw you kiss his cheek," Harry said flatly. "Does that mean anything?"

"Darius is more of a father to me than my real father…so what?" Cassandra snapped. "He's always been there for me, and can always get me special items I need that are really getting hard to come by these days! If it wasn't for Darius, I would probably be dead by now…so what if I love him? He's the only person I feel comfortable loving, since I know that he can't be taken away from me in Death…because he's a vampire."

"Vampires are _not_ invincible, Cassandra," said Hermione, joining in. "I thought someone as clever as you would have known that."

Cassandra cast a dirty look at Hermione and said, "It's a lot harder to kill the Undead than it is to kill the Living. I thought someone as clever as _you_ would have known that." She looked at both of them frantically and then said, "Harry, could I talk to you in private about something? It's really important, and it might answer some of your questions about Darius and me."

"Sure, kick me out of the conversation, why don't you?" Hermione said sarcastically as she stomped off. "Harry, don't forget; we've got a test in Foreign Magic for Ebonyste first thing tomorrow morning."

"I've never been more relieved to know that I took Foreign Magic this _summer_," Cassandra muttered before dragging Harry off to an empty room. "So, you want to know about me and the Necromancy master?" Harry nodded, so the girl continued, "In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a vampire too. Darius converted me when I was really little. My parents were horrified and didn't know what to do. Sure, they still loved me, but they didn't want to be anywhere near me…so my uncle agreed to take care of me instead of my mum and dad. Ever since I started living with Severus, which is about as far back as I can remember, Darius has always been close by. He was my first friend, and he's never let me down. Whenever I got hurt, Darius was always the person to cheer me up. I guess the way I feel about Darius is the same way you felt about Sirius Black. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, because I love him so much."

"How do you know about Sirius?" Harry asked. Cassandra opened the black book she always was writing in and pointed to page 53. It read:

"_September 12, 1996_

_Hogwarts Library, Evening_

_At last, I can say that I have finished that damn project for Claire. The scarf that idiot let me use…it's all coming clear to me, thanks to the technique I found. This strategy, also known more commonly as the Macedalion…_"

Harry quit reading there and handed the book back. "You used the Macedalion on me? When?"

Cassandra laughed and got the familiar smug look on her face. "Oh, that's easy…I used it on you when I first shook your hand in Nezura's Curiosity in Occasion Alley. You know, when I caught you eavesdropping on Mitzi and Severus?"

Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment; Cassandra had known about him all along! "You found out all about me by using the Macedalion?" Cassandra nodded her head and gave off an arrogant smirk. "You had that all planned out, didn't you?"

"Actually, I just wanted to separate fact from fiction," Cassandra's tone was very matter-of-fact and her face showed that she was not playing with Harry…she was telling the truth. "There are so many rumors about you, and I wanted to know what was a lie…I'm terribly sorry I invaded your privacy, but I was able to pick up some memories of yours that I'm sure you've quite forgotten. Would you like to know how you felt about your parents when you were little?"

"Yes!" Harry said strongly. "You got back _that_ far?" Cassandra nodded and then held up a Telemith. All of a sudden, Harry remembered that Skylarke had given him one to view as well. After Cassandra had placed the glass ball in his hand, Harry asked if the conversation could be brought up at some other place and time. "Thanks a lot, Cassandra," he said flatly.

"You're not mad, are you? I understand if you are, because I was snooping, but I regret none of my actions, in case you did not notice already." Cassandra kept walking and stopped quickly because her owl, Daedalus, had landed on her shoulder with a message. "Is that for me?" Harry heard her say in the distance. "Oh! Not again…"

He couldn't help but laugh as Daedalus landed in Cassandra's hair and made quite a tangled mess. It was pretty funny seeing that sight, because it was obvious that Cassandra was trying with all her might to get her pet out of her locks. Harry walked off toward the Gryffindor Tower, and stopped by an empty room really close by. A couple of years ago, this had been the Tarot classroom, but funding for that course had ceased. The teacher, Professor Persimmons, had found a better paycheck over at Beauxbatons, and Tarot was now being taught in Clairvoyancy with Lewn. Someone rarely strayed off into that room anymore because it was a spot where Sebastian Argentum would appear at times.

Harry closed the door behind him, and jumped when he heard a deep voice ask him, "Can I help you, lad?" He looked to see the transparent face of the ex-Potions Master. Sebastian didn't seem to be the hostile spirit he had been in Turret Seven. He looked calm and a bit worried now.

"I was wondering, Sebastian—can I call you Sebastian?—if you could tell me about how you died? From the sound of it, your death seems similar to the multiple killings going around school, so I'd like to know what it was that got rid of you."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow in suspicion for a moment, and then said smoothly, "It was a gorgonix, lad. Those creatures can transform so perfectly, even the fingerprints of what it is trying to copy are identical once it is through shifting. The only way you can tell the difference between a gorgonix and the original person is that the gorgonix has a thin white ring around its pupil…and that is extremely difficult to see in people who do not have dark eyes."

"I was walking toward my quarters, getting ready to go to sleep, when I saw a fellow teacher standing in the Sixth Floor Teacher's Lounge, staring wildly at his portrait. You wouldn't have known him, Harry…his name was Tybalt Tellulan and he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when your parents were students here. I remember that Sirius Black and your father in particular loved to give Tellulan a hard time, and referred to him as 'Sir Limp-a-lot' behind his back, because it is true that the fellow's right leg was shorter than the other and he'd carry a crutch."

"Anyway, I saw Tellulan standing there, gazing off into nothingness. I approached him and said, 'Tybalt, is something wrong?' He then turned to look at me with his harsh face, and his eyes like tarnished silver. There was a white ring around his pupil, glowing hellishly. If I had not read about gorgonixes beforehand, I would not have noticed that, and probably would still have thought that it was Tybalt Tellulan that had sucked my blood and mangled me while I was still alive." Sebastian saw the disgusted look on Harry's face and said, "Did I go into too much detail?"

"No," Harry lied. "That was what I wanted to hear about that matter. I was also wondering if you knew my mother and father. You taught them, didn't you?"

"Did I know Lily Evans and James Potter?" Sebastian said to himself. After thinking hard about this question, he nodded and said, "Your mother was one of my best-behaved students, and your father always made top marks. Sure, I had to get James and his friends—they called themselves the Marauders—off the hook several times. He was constantly getting into trouble, especially with Tellulan, and wreaking havoc on unsuspecting victims. Some of the pranks were downright mean, but most of them were hilarious. James had a tendency to get out of hand sometimes…not that he can do anything about that now." The dead soul said, "Oh, would you like to actually see for yourself how I faced the gorgonix? Their eyes when in pure form resemble those of a cockatrice and that is something to be most afraid of."

"You have a Pensieve in here that holds your memories?" Harry asked, somewhat shocked. Hearing from Sebastian in this manner made him seem more like an old friend than the spook that had nearly thrashed Cassandra to death…not that the thrashing would have killed her easily; Harry had discovered Cassandra was a vampire like Professor Ahsimal, and it took quite a lot to kill a vampire since they were neither living nor dead anyway.

"No, I don't have a Pensieve for you to plunge your head into," Sebastian said in a well-humored voice. "However, I can show you everything through a certain Clairvoyancy technique known as the Xarona Technique. Wave your wand, Harry, and say _Guanamos Xarona!_ That should give you the effect you desire."

For a brief second, Sebastian did not seem to be a spirit that had separated from its body, but actually appeared to be alive and breathing. Harry could see what the former teacher had looked like before he died. Sebastian Argentum had been a rather handsome fellow in his lifetime, with a well-chiseled face and graying hair that came down to his shoulders. It was surprising, but he had a striking resemblance to a certain New Age piano player.

"_Guanamos Xarona!"_ Harry said strongly as he flicked his wand at Sebastian-the-ghost. Suddenly, it seemed like everything was reversing in age, except Harry, and after the spinning sensation had subsided, Harry saw that Sebastian was not dead anymore, but very much alive. He was wearing silvery robes and had an interesting pendant around his neck. His eyes were looking about frantically, and then gazed upon his wristwatch. "Sebastian!" Harry shouted. "Can you see me?" There was no reply. Harry jumped in front of Sebastian and even tried thrusting a fist at him. He was shocked to find that he went straight through Sebastian the Potions Master. He finally understood that this was working a lot like Tom Riddle's diary had when he had been a Second Year. He was just seeing what happened in the past. He watched about curiously, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone he might know in the present.

He looked down the halls, and finally saw his mother talking to a tall redheaded girl with cerulean eyes and a Second Year girl with mahogany hair and bright aqua eyes. "Niobe, I really don't understand what's going on here. You're telling me that there's no way to get rid of that _stupid_ crush Potter has on me?"

"That's right," said the redhead, obviously Niobe. '_She looks a lot like Hermione's friend Isis…could this be Mrs. Acheron, her mum?'_ Harry thought about that only shortly, because Niobe said something else. "From my knowledge on dating psychology, I get the feeling you two will do more than just go on dates once you get out of Hogwarts. I think you'll wind up marrying him and having at least one kid." _She's right_, Harry thought. _Isis has a clever mum._

"Don't be ridiculous, Niobe!" said Lily, twisting a strand of her hair around a finger. "I can't stand Potter."

"You mean you can't stand him _now_!" said Niobe, teasingly. She then walked off and said, "Remember, we've got a test in Defense Against the Dark Arts for Terrible Tellulan tomorrow after lunch!"

"I almost forgot about Tellulan," said the mahogany-haired girl, "and until she mentioned that _freak_, my day was going along nicely. He spoils everything, you know."

"Now, Stella, are you so sure of that?" Lily asked.

Stella rolled her pale aqua eyes and said, "Look, Lily…Tellulan is always so bitter, and he never gives his students a rest. Every other lesson, we get a major test grade as well as a ton of homework! Sure, maybe you have the time for a class like that, but I most certainly don't! I've got to worry about my House Quidditch team more than that class, because I am their new Beater!"

"You made the team, Stella?" Lily's eyes widened. "Give me _all_ the details!"

'_This is getting boring_,' thought Harry. He then rushed to follow Sebastian. After all, this was a memory of the ex-teacher, not Harry's mum. Suddenly, he saw Sebastian enter into the Dungeon. Harry watched Sebastian teach a class, and he saw that his father, Lupin, Wormtail, Sirius, and Snape were in there, paying close attention to an excruciatingly hard potion. '_I'd choose Professor Argentum over Professor Snape any day of the week,'_ Harry thought bitterly. He walked right behind the Marauders to see what they were up to. "You know, Argentum really isn't that bad," said Sirius.

"You're right, Padfoot," said James in a playful manner. "Sure, he's a bit strict in here, but that's because he's got to do his job. When he isn't teaching, he's on our side most of the time. Remember that time last year when we hung Snivellus upside down in front of everyone?"

"Do I ever!" said Sirius, laughing. "It was priceless! Pure golden humor!"

"I almost lost my position as a prefect because of that!" Lupin said sharply. "Oh, look who's late _again_!"

A tiny little girl with dirty-blonde hair in a ponytail came in. She was about four and a half feet tall, and was petite in everything, except her figure. Harry recognized the girl as none other than a younger version of Mitzi Nezura. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Argentum!" she said in an airy voice that suggested she had run the whole way here. In her hand was a scribbled note. "I've got an excused tardy from Professor McGonagall that explains everything."

"Good," said Sebastian. "You may take your seat now, Mitzi."

Nezura sat down in between a couple of girls that looked almost exactly alike, except for their hair; one of them had it in a bun, and the other had it in curly pigtails.

"I think Mitzi has _never_ been on time for Potions," said Wormtail. "I'm surprised Argentum keeps so calm. If one of _us_ showed up late for a change, all Hell would break loose, that's what I'm guessing."

A sparkle showed up in the eyes of Sirius and James. "We've _got_ to try that sometime this week! Argentum's our friend, so I'm sure he'll forgive us."

"Shut up and get to work!" hissed a voice behind the Marauders. Harry recognized it as Snape immediately. "Professor Argentum is going to realize you've done nothing in a moment." He said in a sinister tone, "he's checking cauldrons right _now_."

"Damn!" James groaned. "I was so engulfed in our conversation that I forgot to watch my tonic!"

"Hey, Prongs," Sirius said in a shaky voice. "You're not alone; I think Moony's the only one here that kept working."

"Is there a problem over there, gentlemen?" Sebastian asked suspiciously. "Remus, I'm coming over there to take a look at your specimen. You're usually one of the first to finish…you, Lydia, and Severus, that is. There's a Third Year named Morty Skylarke, too…"

A very pretty girl with long, wavy raven-black hair and celadon eyes beamed at that comment. "Thank you for the compliment, Professor Argentum!" She straightened her uniform out a bit and started writing in a book bound in black dragon-scale leather. '_She looks a lot like Cassandra, only much prettier,'_ Harry thought in an amused tone. '_Acts like her, too...isn't that the same _**_book_**_!'_

"You're most welcome, my dear," said Sebastian. "Your work is some of the best I've seen since I took this position four years ago. Honestly, you should consider going into this field."

"Actually, sir," said Lydia in a meek voice. "I was planning on becoming a writer and maybe even make use of my true talent--"

"Well, Miss Von Dorian, you have the intelligence and the money to do whatever you wish, but I want you to know that you're one of the best in here," Sebastian then paused and said, "What about you, Severus? Have you considered teaching Potions?"

"Hell no, Professor Argentum!" growled Snape the teenager. "Why would I want to teach something that _boring_?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes and muttered, "What a waste of your best talent…" under his breath. Harry was sure he was the only one who heard that. "Remus, how about you? Have you given any thought into going into this field? You're rather good in here, too."

"I've thought about it a little," Lupin lied. "However, I guess all possibilities are open right now, because I honestly haven't set my mind on just one career yet."

This answer obviously settled with Sebastian. "Is it okay to check your cauldron, Remus?"

"Of course it's _okay_, Professor," Lupin said cheerily. "Go ahead!"

The entire class period seemed to pass like that. Harry walked around the school for quite a while, watching the people that he knew in the present. Unlike the Pensieve, this pretty much had allowed Harry to time travel to the past, but he was unable to manipulate it or interact. All he could do was watch and listen. He finally decided it would be interesting to follow Snape around to see what _he_ used to do. After all, Harry already knew what his dad and the Marauders liked to do. The activities of Snape's adolescent self probably tragically differed from the innocent fun of young James Potter.

After Potions, Snape waited for everyone else to leave the room, and then started to talk to Sebastian. "Professor Argentum," he said shakily.

"Can I help you, Severus?" There was a bit of uncomfortable nervousness in Sebastian's voice. He sounded rather jumpy, too.

Snape quickly nodded his head, his greasy hair flying everywhere. "I was wondering if you still had those books you said I could borrow."

"Oh!" Sebastian exclaimed in a surprised tone. "Of course I've still got them! Which one do you need, lad?"

Snape got a smug look on his face that Harry had seen Cassandra use before. "I need whatever books you have by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, if you've still got them."

"Of _course_ I still have the Dr. Hemlock books!" said Sebastian. "I got those as a Christmas present from my girlfriend in college…and, honestly, I never use her stuff…so, I wouldn't mind if you kept these. I've never touched them."

"Thank you, Professor!" Snape said. His sallow face was glowing…literally. He waltzed out of the Dungeon, putting those books into his bag. He rushed down the halls as fast as he could, but then got stopped right outside the Tarot classroom when the teacher cursed him out. The teacher walked out of the room, quite angry.

"Slow down; it's rude to run in the halls," said a bony woman. She had brown eyes and a famished look to her.

"Sorry, Professor Lynches!" Snape said. "It won't happen again."

"I should most certainly _hope_ not," Lynches said icily as she walked toward the Great Hall for dinner. It was about that time.

Harry still thought it would be interesting to follow Snape around a bit. Everyone _but_ Harry's Potions teacher seemed to be walking with someone else. It was very easy to pity him at this point; one of the best things at Hogwarts was friendship. Suddenly, Harry saw a lean boy dressed in a jade silk tunic over a copper-colored robe. Around his neck was a pendant made of a unicorn's horn. He had long auburn hair down to the mid of his back, and he was talking to another boy about his age (they looked thirteen or fourteen) that was wearing a navy blue robe with silvery celestial patterns on it. The other boy had brass-colored eyes, spiky black hair, and a dragon tooth necklace around his neck. He had a dragon fang earring in his left ear, too. Suddenly, the auburn boy turned to face Snape and said, "Severus, where were you?"

"Did you get those books from Argentum yet?" The eyes of the dark-haired boy widened in amazement as Snape pulled out one of these books, entitled History of Vampirism. The auburn boy looked absolutely delighted.

"Since Darius has been around since some of those early empires," Snape said with sickening excitement (this was all disgusting Harry) in his voice, "I'm sure the name 'Ahsimal' will show up _somewhere_ in here. Just thinking about this gets me excited!"

"Hey, Severus?" said the dark-haired boy. "You're not going to follow my brother to the woods again tonight, are you?"

"So what if I am?" Snape hissed at his friend.

"Well," said the auburn boy. "Aurelius and I are rather worried about you, Severus. We don't want you to do anything you'll regret later. Licinius Fallowin isn't exactly the world's most trustworthy person…I think that was proven when he told Lynches and McGonagall where we were practicing Psy Hypnotism in secret."

'_Fallowin?'_ Harry thought with horror. '_Is _**_Rick_**_ related to Aurelius Fallowin?'_

Aurelius nodded, but his spiked hair stayed in place. The auburn lad cleaned his thin, rimless glasses and put them back on. "Severus, my brother's bad news."

"I've never felt better, Aurelius!" Snape growled. "Some friend _you_ are, not wanting me to be satisfied with myself for once!"

"That's not what I meant!" Aurelius snapped back. "I'm just warning you that I saw the Dark Mark on Licinius the other day, and I was afraid you might—"

"You were afraid I might…what? Do something like _this_?" Snape said. He pulled his sleeve up and showed Aurelius and the other boy that he had the Dark Mark on his arm. "I joined the Death Eaters last week to get even with Potter. The Dark Lord will destroy him and his nasty little friends for me. I'm sick and tired of the torture, so now it's their turn. I don't think I'll ever show any remorse toward this decision either...revenge is exactly what I want. Aurelius, why don't you and Morty come and join me? We'd probably be the best pledges there, and the two of you come from decent, pure-blooded families…" Everything was becoming frighteningly clear to Harry. '_Did Professor Skylarke and Aurelius Fallowin follow Snape into the Death Eaters?'_

Skylarke stood up to Snape and said, "My mum, my dad, Míguel, and Stella support the Death Eaters! I've never wanted to be like them, and never will change my mind!"

"So, you want to be different from the rest of the Skylarkes, Morty?" Snape asked. "You always aspired to be a black sheep, didn't you?" He now looked like he was regretting his decision. "If you and Aurelius won't join me, being a Death Eater really isn't so appealing anymore." He flinched, and said, "So, now what? Are you two, my only friends, going to abandon me?"

"Severus, we'd never abandon you because we don't agree on something," said Skylarke. He then put his hand on Snape's shoulder and said teasingly, "Just don't kill us, okay?"

Harry couldn't stand to watch Snape any longer. He decided it was time to follow Sebastian around. He sat at an empty table seat in the Great Hall while everyone was eating. He looked up to see where the teachers were sitting. There was McGonagall, only a bit over twenty years younger than Harry was used to seeing. Next to her, in the seat Snape would later be sitting in, was Sebastian, picking at his food. His face had turned a bit greenish, and he looked like he was going to vomit at any second. Something was seriously beginning to make him feel sick. Harry soon found out why.

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts chair was one of the scariest-looking people Harry had ever seen. The man had one leg that was seriously deformed, while the other was normal. His arms (or what Harry could see of his arms, since the teacher was wearing a sweater) were covered in burn marks, scars, and traces of what had been plague sores of some kind. His face was yellowish and sunken, almost skull-like. He had a sharp, pointy nose, and his eyes looked like tarnished silver, just like Sebastian had said. He was dressed in a black robe, a knit sweater, and baggy corduroy pants with leather boots. His hair was a complete mess. It came down in thick, greasy strands to his chin, and was a sandy tan color. On his neck was a long line of thick stitches, like on Frankenstein's monster in the films. The freakiest part to Harry was the hands of this guy…the nails looked like talons. They were dark, nearly five inches long, thick, and hooked. He saw Professor Tellulan (according to the conversation going on with Lily Evans and her friends earlier, that's who this _freak_ was) grab a large piece of meat and bite down. Blood oozed everywhere, and streamed down the professor's mouth. It was quite a disgusting sight.

Harry also noticed that some of the Hawkbanes were there. Ahsimal was trying his best not to lick his lips when he saw the blood, and it was funny to see that he looked the same then as he did in the present. Same with Lewn; the only thing different about her was the way she fixed her hair and how she was dressed. She had on some large plastic hoops and had her blonde hair up in fluffy, frizzy curls. She was also wearing pink lipstick and thigh-high boots with a skin tight dress. Parenein was there, but he had more hair and it was iron gray. He was wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and a pair of khaki pants underneath his electric blue robe, but still had that weird pendant. Snitchgrass looked like she was somewhere in her forties. Her hair was not silver and platinum, like it was in the present…it was a mousy brown, and she had it pulled up in a pair of braided buns.

Next to the Hawkbanes was Professor Lynches. She had nothing on her plate, but she was drinking water. She constantly kept checking herself in the mirror and was trying to blot something out on her face unsuccessfully.

Professor Flitwick was there, chattering with a hook-nosed woman wearing a big, black hat like the witches in Muggle children's books. The woman also had on some rather lacy and velvety scarlet robes, and earrings that looked like black-widow spiders. She took the hat off and laughed at the joke Flitwick had just told her. Her skin was wan, and she had on some very dark eyeliner and eyeshadow on to show off her mahogany eyes. Her hair was pale silver and held up in a tight bun. She had nails like claws; they were nowhere near as bad as Tybalt Tellulan's talons, but they were long and sharp. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, so Harry couldn't help but feel that they were dentures. Overall, this lady gave the impression that she was a wealthy benefactor of the school, but a fun person to be around. Harry walked up closer to see what she and Flitwick were doing. The woman laughed again and said, "That was _delightful_!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Agnes," said Flitwick. He tapped Parenein's shoulder and said, "Icarus, would you mind getting Ms. Hawkbane another piece of Swiss chocolate?"

Harry looked at the woman in the velvet robes again, and stared at her for a very long time. He wished he had a camera. This was the woman responsible for the Hawkbane program, Agnes Hawkbane! There was someone else that attracted his attention; a young teacher—who looked about the same age as Leir—sitting by himself. He had jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a rather handsome face. Harry knew who this fellow reminded him of immediately…_Sirius_! He then glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and saw that Sirius was trying to get Wormtail to eat something that looked pretty dreadful. He stared closer at that young teacher and couldn't help but see the similarities. This fellow looked almost exactly like Sirius had in his parents' wedding album. The young man yawned and then said, "There's a Quidditch game tomorrow, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Think your House can handle Gryffindor, Cynthia?"

Lynches stuck her middle finger up at the young man and said, "Can it, Aldebaran. You really need to stop getting so involved with the Quidditch team. Honestly, just because the best friend of your kid brother is the Seeker for the Gryffindor team, do you _have_ to always root for them? It's annoying_ especially_ because you're not a Gryffindor…you're a Ravenclaw!"

'_Aldebaran,'_ thought Harry. '_Sirius said he had a younger brother named Regulus, but he said nothing about an older brother named Aldebaran. I wish I could ask him about this…I wish he were still here…'_

Harry walked back over toward Sebastian, who was looking extremely ill by this point. He then saw the Potions Master get up, his hands over his stomach, and his face with a rather unlovely expression on it. Every part of him seemed to have turned a pale green from watching Professor Tellulan eat his dinner. That would have made anyone spew chunks and lose their dinner in a wastebasket. Sebastian then walked out of the Great Hall and wrote in a book for about an hour. Harry heard noise above his head, but he just figured it was Sirius and his dad getting into mischief or giving Snape Hell upstairs. Sebastian, however, looked worried. Then, Harry panicked…it almost sounded like a Death Eater Raid up there. Sebastian jumped out of his chair and dropped the diary he had been writing in. As the bewildered teacher ran off, Harry picked the used journal up:

"_I really don't understand what's happened to Tybalt Tellulan. He was such a gentleman when I first came here, but he seems to degenerate day by day. I wonder if he's losing his mind, or if I'm the one who's losing it. Am I a madman for worrying about a man that was once a friend of mine, but now wants nothing to do with me? Just four years ago, Tybalt had the best manners in the school. Now he eats like a beast and doesn't take care of himself anymore. Such a charming man has gone to waste and now I believe he's turning into a monster before my very eyes. What is happening to him? I swear…if Tybalt does something dangerous, I don't know what I'll do. If I hear noise above me, coming from the teacher's lounge, I'll probably lose it and take off. I'm afraid of what might happen if this keeps up much longer—_"

Harry dropped the diary in the same spot and rushed after Sebastian. He ran for nearly five minutes before he saw Sebastian rush off into a place Harry recognized as the Sixth Floor Teacher's Lounge. He had never been in here before, but he was about to give it a try. Right after Sebastian thrust the door open, Harry took off after his guide. He viewed the teacher's lounge with curiosity. The room had an expensive green marble fireplace with two phoenixes carved on the side panels. There were portraits of the Teacher of the Year from 1532 to 1974 up on that wall, and the only year it was cancelled was 1837. There was a note there that said, "Margot Longbottom (Transfiguration), Teacher of the Year for 1837, wished to not have her portrait put here. We will put her name here, at least, in her honor." Harry couldn't help but think of Neville when he read about Margot Longbottom. On another wall were all the accomplishments that had gotten these people that specific Award. Harry looked at the pictures to see that the most recent Award had gone to "Aldebaran Black (Manipulations), Teacher of the Year for 1974." The one before that had been "Sebastian Argentum (Potions), Teacher of the Year for 1973." Before that one had been "Tybalt Tellulan (Defense Against the Dart Arts), Teacher of the Year for 1972." However, the picture of Tellulan on the wall seemed so different from the savage-looking man Harry had seen in the Great Hall at that memory of a dinner. The face that was blinking back at him in the portrait showed an unattractive man with a long, pointed nose, small beady eyes, but a really friendly smile. Although Tybalt Tellulan had never been good-looking, at least he had used to look sophisticated, because he sure did in that photograph.

_It's odd_, thought Harry. '_He's so different from his picture. Maybe what Sebastian wrote was right…maybe Tellulan kept degenerating.'_

He continued to look around the room. There was a really long, black velvet sofa with claw-like cherry wood legs. A fire glowed in the green fireplace, and there was a large empty space in the back. That was where Tellulan was standing, gazing into nothingness. Whatever class the man had when he had been Teacher of the Year had long vanished…Tybalt Tellulan had become a freak of nature in the passage of three miserable years. He looked completely wasted. Whatever had been left of his sanity had probably left him a long time ago. Sebastian came in, but he left the door open. "What are you doing?" Tellulan ignored Sebastian and just kept standing there, staring off at his picture as if it were an entertaining movie. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Shut up, you!" Tellulan growled. His voice was deep and booming. When he shouted, Harry could feel the floor vibrating like with a bass stereo. The face of the damaged professor was twisted with rage. Harry could see a pale, fiery glow come from the ring around Tellulan's pupil, just like Sebastian had told him.

"I was walking toward my quarters, getting ready to go to sleep, when I saw the door was open. I was wondering if your mind was becoming troubled, Tybalt," said Sebastian. He really looked quite bewildered at seeing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor degenerate this much.

Tellulan picked up Sebastian, and hurled him up against the wall. A vase or two shattered, and the edge of Sebastian's robe caught fire. There was a lot of shrieking. "Leave me alone, Argenteum!"

"You don't know what you're doing, Tybalt," Sebastian said shakily.

"I understand completely, but is there anything I can do? I accepted the monster within me. There was no cure, so therefore no other alternative but to let it live in me. Without the gorgonix, I am nothing, and it is nothing without me!" Insane laughter issued from Tellulan's mouth. The eyes glowed even more, and smoke was coming out of his nostrils.

"So, you're the one that's been carrying the gorgonix?" Sebastian said in sheer terror. "It was _you_! Tybalt, it's not too late; we can get an Exorcist--"

"I'm in no mood for small talk," Tellulan snarled. "The time is nearer than you think. Darkness is increasing in this day and age at a rapid speed…it's rampant. We're all _powerless_ to stop it, don't you understand? To be reduced to just a shell was my ill destiny, and now it seems that is all that will become of the once-great Professor Tellulan. If you try to stop me, Argentum, I will put you to Death."

"Well, here I am!" the Potions Master shouted. The walls echoed his voice, and Harry knew that Sebastian was counting on people hearing him and coming to his aid. "Tybalt, I can't allow you to harm people, so I'll do whatever I can to deter you and the monster you are feeding your soul to!" The fires dimmed, and the only thing that was glowing in the room now was the smoke that was issuing out of Tellulan.

What had started as a mere white fog seeping out of the nostrils of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had started coming out of every pore in his body. Every single opening had the smoke seeping out for a brief instant. Tellulan's gray eyes glowed a painfully bright white and then the smoke seemed to jump back into the wretched man's body again. Suddenly, the noise that Harry had heard earlier started up again. It sounded like a bunch of sinister voices mumbling a horrid incantation of some type…an antagonizing tune of delight.

Tellulan's gnarled hands grabbed Sebastian, who was bleeding from where the broken vase had cut him. The wounded man was shaken and thrashed about in a manner Harry had only seen once before. The last time he had seen someone get thrashed like this, it had been when Sebastian's ghost had panicked and attacked Cassandra Snape. However, this was a lot more serious than that, because Cassandra could disperse a ghost. It looked like Professor Argentum didn't stand a chance against someone powerful like Tybalt Tellulan. More items were broken, including the marble fireplace; in the course of two minutes, the entire room was brought into complete chaos.

The portraits on the wall fell down, and the glass cases shattered. Tellulan seemed to not feel any pain whatsoever as he walked over the broken glass, barefooted. He dragged a bruised and bloodied Sebastian over the shards, making the Potions Master scream in pain even more. Tellulan's insane laughter was now echoing down the hall, as well as Sebastian's unearthly shrieks. Harry tried to pry Tellulan off of Sebastian, but it was useless; all he could do was watch his friend's slow and painful death progress.

Tellulan lifted one of his large hands up and curled his fingers into a hooked position. His sharp, hawkish talons were in the air for only about a second before they started slashing at Sebastian. Pieces of bloodied clothing, mangled flesh, innards, and skin were flying everywhere, but the screaming only got worse…as did that hellish laughter. "Want me to stop, Argentum?" Tellulan taunted as he took another swipe with his claw. Sebastian's eyes had begun to glaze over, and he was powerless against the might of this older, larger man. However, all of the gore coming from Sebastian Argentum's ruined body was nothing compared to what Harry saw next.

Tellulan froze for a moment and hurled himself backwards. He held his stained hands up to his face, and then let go. His canine teeth sharpened and elongated like vampiric fangs, and then he completely changed into another person. Harry's eyes widened as Tybalt Tellulan proceeded to shift into Darius Ahsimal. '_I don't want to see any more of this,'_ thought Harry. '_Please, Sebastian, let me wake up.'_ Tellulan/Ahsimal then rushed over toward Sebastian, who was beginning to tremble a bit. He picked up his prey, and in two seconds, the monster's face was buried in Sebastian's neck. As he sucked the blood out of his victim, he continued slicing the rest of the body. Sebastian finally stopped moving and went limp. The lights went out for a second, and then the fire started to glow again. Tellulan had shifted back into his putrid self, but he was covered in Sebastian's blood. However, his eyes weren't glowing anymore. He looked at the body, and then at the mess on him and groaned. Apparently, he was back in his right mind at present. Tellulan panicked and reached in his sack for an Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched the horrid man clean himself up and change into his nightshirt. The professor then started wandering down the hall with his crutch, and saw that Professor Lynches and the Marauders were walking about in opposite directions.

Tellulan rushed into Dumbledore's office and screeched, "Headmaster!"

"Yes, Tybalt?" Dumbledore said as he pried his eyes away from the telescope he was viewing into. "What is the problem?"

"Sir, I heard screams coming from the Sixth Floor in the Teacher's Lounge area," Tellulan stammered. "I was walking up there to talk to Icarus, but the sounds I heard gave me the feeling that I should alert you as soon as possible." He beamed, showing his bone-colored teeth. "Yes, that's _exactly_ what I did."

After Dumbledore rushed out into the hall and took the stairs to the sixth floor, he opened the door to the teacher's lounge and Harry could see the look of horror on the Headmaster's face as he viewed the mangled remains of Sebastian Argentum. However, looming over Sebastian's limp form was Cynthia Lynches. "Cynthia!" Dumbledore shouted. Lynches turned around to face Dumbledore. Harry cringed; she was covered in Sebastian's blood and had the knife in her hand.

Lynches flinched, looked at the weapon she was holding in a confused manner and then said, "Headmaster, it's not what it looks like! I didn't do this!"

"Then who _did_, Cynthia?" Dumbledore asked suspiciously. Harry could see why Dumbledore would think the bony woman did it; she was carrying the weapon, and was covered in the blood of the slaughtered; Lynches looked far from innocent. Only Harry knew better, because everyone else seemed to think Cynthia Lynches was the murderer.

"I…" Lynches stuttered. "I don't know, sir, but I swear to you that it wasn't me!"

"A likely story," snarled Tellulan. "You _look_ like the guilty party; the blood is all over you and you're holding the murder weapon with your own bare hands."

"_What_?" Lynches said in a shocked voice. She looked at the weapon, her bloodstained hands, and her drenched clothing. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you've got to believe me! I don't remember doing this at all! Sir, the last thing I remember was leaving the Great Hall…I blacked out, I swear!" Harry heard her mutter under her breath, "Maybe I'm losing my mind, but I don't _recall_ killing poor Sebastian!"

'_No,'_ Harry thought. This was all wrong; he knew Lynches didn't do it He watched in despair as a couple of Aurors dragged a defiant Cynthia Lynches to Azkaban for the murder of Sebastian Argentum. The scrawny woman wailed the whole way. Harry wanted to see more, but he then felt a lurching sensation in his stomach, as if he was about to throw up. He blinked, and then it was all over. Sebastian the ghost was staring straight back at him and said, "Tybalt Tellulan eventually got control of his own body two months later. He knew all along that he was the mass murderer everyone was looking for, but he never reported himself and let everyone keep thinking it was Cynthia Lynches. He kept all of those killings his little secret until a Death Eater got him some time in December 1976. It's ironic, Harry…I taught Tybalt Tellulan's murderer, and he now teaches my position over at Hogwarts." The ghost laughed. "Coincidence? I think not!"

"_Snape_ killed Tellulan!" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why?"

"Severus got pissed at his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher one too many times, Harry. Even when he was in his free mind, Tybalt had a rather sharp tongue that constantly got him into trouble. His foul mouth led him to his quick demise." Sebastian shrugged and then said, "Oh, and Severus didn't have to spend any time in Azkaban for the murder, either. He was able to prove that Tybalt had been the murderer everyone had been looking for, and that Professor Lynches was innocent all along. Cynthia was freed, and got a huge compensation from the Ministry of Magic. She bought herself an enormous mansion, put on a bit of weight, and never needed a job again." The ghost yawned and then said, "So, what did you think of my death?"

"It was awful," was all Harry could say about it. "I'm never looking at your death _again_, no matter how much you beg me, Sebastian. I think my dreams are going to be tainted with _that_ for a very long time." He added with sarcasm, "Thanks a lot!"

"Before you head off to Gryffindor Tower, Harry," Sebastian said, "I was wondering if there was anything you'd like to ask me about what you just saw."

"I've got a few questions, actually," Harry said. "Who was Aurelius Fallowin?"

"Aurelius?" Sebastian said. "He was a bright student with a lot of potential, but he was a pretty quiet lad. That's all I remember about him, except that he ended up in Azkaban thirteen years ago for mass murder. His brother, Licinius, reported him as a Death Eater. Honestly, knowing Aurelius, it wouldn't surprise me if he actually _was_ one. That lad was always causing trouble."

"Did Skylarke end up joining Voldemort?"

"How should I know?" Sebastian said. "Go ask Mortimer yourself. I'm sure he'll answer your questions about _that_."

Harry bit his lip. "I saw someone in your memory named Aldebaran Black, and someone, Lynches, said that he was the older brother of Sirius. What happened to him?"

"Aldebaran was at St. Mungo's last time I checked, but I'd be surprised if he hasn't died yet. There was virtually no hope that he'd get better after the gorgonix attacked him," Sebastian sounded quite upset. "Well, enough about Aldebaran…anything _else_ you want to know?"

"What were in those…er…Dr. Hemlock books, anyway?"

Sebastian's eyes widened and he said, "Snape still has them, so why don't you ask him if you can borrow one? I'm sure there's one in particular that will appeal to you. It's called Dark Lords in History. Whatever you want to know about Voldemort, it's bound to be in there. If Snape says you can't borrow them, tell him Sebastian said it was alright." The ghost let out a long yawn and said, "Well, I'm getting a little tired. It was nice talking to you, but you really don't need to stay up any later. I heard one of your friends say you had a test in Foreign Magic tomorrow. Good luck, Harry, and don't let Ebonyste bother you!"

Harry arrived back in the Gryffindor Common Room to find Hermione was writing a letter to Krum, and that Ron and Atticus were playing a game of Wizards Chess. Ron was in the lead, but Atticus was proving to be quite a tough opponent. On the table was also a small box of Mood Drops from Siren's Sweets, so it was easy to see what the prize was. The Ziploc™ bag filled with the gag Mood Drops was on the pile too, a consolation prize for the loser. "Check, Atticus!" Ron said, pleased with himself.

Atticus made his move and said, "Checkmate; you win." He then wheeled over toward Hermione and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Writing to Viktor," Hermione said dreamily.

"Viktor who?" Atticus asked Harry.

"Viktor Krum," Harry knew the whole story. Krum had been at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament a couple of years ago, and had asked Hermione (or "Herm-own-ninny" as Krum would say it) to go out with him. "Hermione's got a boyfriend."

Atticus didn't look so surprised. "Isn't he the Seeker for a professional Quidditch team?"

"Sure is," said Ron as he popped a goldenrod Mood Drop in his mouth, and then washed it down with some ice cold water.

"Wasn't Viktor Krum over here the year Cedric Diggory died? He represented Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament, if I remember correctly," Atticus had been trying his best to learn about the previous adventures of his friends, and had been doing a pretty good job learning even down to the very last painful detail. It was almost as if he had been with Harry, Ron, and Hermione ever since Day One in the First Year.

"Don't talk about Cedric," Harry said flatly, "ever." He then sat down on the sofa and watched halfheartedly as the flames in the fireplace flickered.

"Harry, is something bothering you?" Ron asked. "I know just the thing to cheer you up…Clairvoyancy has been cancelled for tomorrow, so we get a free period." He raised an eyebrow when Harry just sighed. "I can tell your mind's dwelling on something, so, come on, out with it. What's wrong?"

"You didn't run into someone on the way over here, did you?" Atticus said gloomily. "I bumped into Lewn right outside the tower by accident, and then she started getting all indignant on me…as if I had actually _meant_ to hit her ass." He rolled his eyes while Ron and Harry burst into laughter. "Well, I'm going ahead to bed."

"Why? It's hardly ten o' clock, Atticus!" said Ron.

"I know that," said Atticus. "I just don't want Nezura giving me trouble tomorrow in Defense Against the Dark Arts." He wheeled off toward the boys' dormitories and that was the last of Atticus Shadow IX that Harry, Ron, and Hermione saw until the next day.

After she finished her letter, Hermione walked off toward the girls' dormitories. "So," said Ron. "Can you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Sebastian showed me how he died," Harry said. "I'm going to be having nightmares for a very long time, Ron. It was awful."

"Sebastian?" Ron said curiously. "Wasn't that the ghost that went berserk and tried to throttle Cassandra?" When Harry nodded, Ron turned pale. "What were you doing talking to Sebastian, anyway?"

"I was looking in the old Tarot classroom and he was in there. I asked him how he died, and he actually _showed_ me how it happened. It was like I traveled back in time, but couldn't do anything but watch and listen," Harry then got a rather bright idea…why hadn't he thought of this before? "Ron, I'm getting out the Invisibility Cloak. There's a place I want to visit."

Ron knew what this meant…he and Harry were going to sneak out of the dormitories when they weren't supposed to even be in the Common Room. Oh well, people in the Hawkbane program had a lot of privileges, and late strolling hours was one of them…all they had to do was show anyone they ran into their Hawkbane card, and no punishment could be dealt. "Okay, Harry," said Ron. "Just let me go and get my Hawkbane card--"

"That card won't let us into the place we need to investigate," Harry said flatly. "I want to go to the Teachers' Lounge on the Sixth Floor." He watched as Ron squirmed in his seat when he said this.

"No way, Harry," said Ron. "Anywhere but there…who knows what teachers go in there in the afterhours? What if we run across Snape or Cyanis…or someone worse?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Who could _possibly_ be worse than Snape?"

"Ebonyste in a bad mood," said a third voice.

Harry and Ron both jumped because they thought they'd been alone. "Neville?" Harry said. "I thought you were in the dormitories."

"Not at all," said Neville. "I was in the bathroom."

"I'm not going to that place, Harry. I'm too tired after that Quidditch game, anyway," said Ron sleepily. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Where are you going, Harry?" Neville asked. "Can I come?"

"Sure," said Harry, glaring at Ron. "I hope you don't mind sharing an Invisibility Cloak with me."

"Not a problem at all!" Neville carefully got under the cloak with Harry, and they both rushed out the door, trying their best to not be heard or caught. Nobody was in the halls, but when the two boys made it to the staircase, they saw Parenein and Snitchgrass talking about something as they went down.

"Icarus, I am beginning to vorry."

"What about, Lucinda?"

"It's only a matter ov time before someone realizes vat veir up to."

"What are you getting at? Are you saying that Claire can't keep a secret?"

"Yes, I am."

"Oh, now you've got me worrying, too!"

"History vas repeating itself ven ve found zose bodies. Remember last time?"

The conversation between the two Hawkbanes continued like this for a long while until they left. Harry whispered to Neville, "The _last time_ they were talking about is why we're going up to the Teachers' Lounge on the Sixth Floor."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Harry."

As they walked up the stairs, Harry told Neville all about the death of Sebastian. By the time they reached the Teachers' Lounge, Neville had learned all about the murder and the inequity of Cynthia Lynches' imprisonment. Harry opened the door, not knowing what to expect. However, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could see how much this room had changed since the days of Tellulan.

Everything that had been broken had been fixed, and all of the portraits were on the wall once more. A warm, faithful glow was coming from inside the green marble fireplace, and the black velvet sofa was still there. A dartboard had been put up, and a statue of Agnes Hawkbane was watching kindly over the entire room, a smile on her stone face. If it had not been for the long-dried bloodstains on the carpet and part of the wall, Harry would have thought he and Neville were still in Sebastian's memory of the past. There were more portraits on the wall, though, and there were some familiar names up there for the years Harry had been attending Hogwarts…

Severus Snape (Potions), Teacher of the Year for 1991

Sibyll Trelawney (Divination), Teacher of the Year for 1992

Remus Lupin (Defense Against the Dark Arts), Teacher of the Year for 1993

Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures), Teacher of the Year for 1994

Minerva McGonagall (Transfiguration), Teacher of the Year for 1995

Alexander "Skip" Furrier (Animagery), Teacher of the Year for 1996

"Who nominated _Trelawney_? That old fraud doesn't deserve an award like that!" Neville couldn't help but comment. He saw the name "Margot Longbottom" a couple of seconds later and just stared in amazement. "Drat, there's no picture."

Suddenly, the door was slammed shut and a shady figure rushed into the room. It took a seat by the fireplace and let out a heavy sigh. Harry and Neville silently made an observation and finally came to the conclusion that this was nobody dangerous…it was just Ahsimal. "So selfish," he muttered. "If I were a human, I would have throttled him by now. Lucky for Argus, vampires are patient individuals, unlike the typical _human_."

'_What?'_ Harry wanted Ahsimal to say more; this was going to prove interesting. Neville leaned over to get a closer look, but then slipped, causing the Invisibility Cloak to fly off not only himself, but Harry as well. They were caught red-handed.

"Potter," Ahsimal said flatly. "Longbottom, what are you two doing in here?" He raised an eyebrow, and his glittering mauve eyes sparkled with some unknown emotion. "Are you spying on me?" he asked curiously. It was obvious the albino teacher was clueless as to why they were in here.

"We weren't spying, Professor," said Neville. "One of the ghosts directed Harry in here, and since Ron didn't want to go, I said I'd keep Harry company." Neville turned to face his friend. "Harry, this is about that Tellulan fellow, right?"

"Right!" Harry said quickly.

"Tellulan?" Ahsimal said in a dull voice that was very uncharacteristic of him. "As in Tellulan the murdering psychopath?" When the two Gryffindor boys nodded, Ahsimal rolled his exotic eyes and sighed. "Who told you about Tybalt Tellulan, lads?"

"Sebastian Argentum, sir," Harry said. "I asked him how he died, and he showed me by using an advanced Clairvoyancy spell he called the Xarona Technique. I saw everything, and I wanted to see if it hadn't been just an illusion."

"No," said Ahsimal. "This is the same place that Argentum was killed by Tellulan. However, when it had just happened, I thought that the culprit was..."

"Ms. Lynches?" Neville interrupted. "Harry told me that she was framed."

"She was," Ahsimal said icily. "Honestly, it didn't come to a shock to me that she was innocent. Mad-Eye Moody was in charge of the investigation at the time, and all the evidence pointed at Cynthia, and you know how Mad-Eye is…he's the 'hang 'em high' type and was one of those zero-tolerance people when it came to black magic and murder. Sure, he's probably one of the greatest Aurors the Ministry of Magic ever had, but he had no choice but to arrest Cynthia Lynches. I must admit she looked extremely guilty; the knife was in her hand, she was over the body and drenched in Sebastian's blood. It wasn't until later that we all found out that Tybalt Tellulan was the murderer."

"Yes," said Harry. "That sounds about right; I'm familiar with the story, Professor. Do you think Tellulan was entirely guilty?" He waited for the vampire's answer with suspense…it was seriously hard to try to figure out Ahsimal's answer.

"Yes, I do," said Ahsimal. "I think he was possessed by a gorgonix or a similar monster, but he's just as guilty as he would have been had he been the psychopath the media portrayed him as. Want to know why? It was because he hid the truth and let poor Cynthia rot in Azkaban, just so he could save his _own_ skin. Yes, I knew Tybalt Tellulan when he taught here, and I also knew his true character. Even when the gorgonix didn't possess him, Tellulan was the biggest git I ever had the misfortune to encounter. He had a very foul mouth, and a painfully sharp tongue."

"Are you_ sure_ he was possessed?" Harry knew that Tellulan had been under some sort of influence because he'd seen it happen, but he wanted a second opinion from someone who actually _knew_ the true character of this sinister man.

"When I was attending University, Potter, Necromancy was _not_ the only thing I worked for my Mage's Degree in; I also majored in Exorcism. Don't you think that if _anyone_ realized that Tellulan was possessed, I would be the first? I am an experienced Necromancer, true, but I am also a relatively good Exorcist." Ahsimal folded his snowy white arms, his cobalt blue nightshirt and brass-colored flannel pants ruffling as he moved about comfortably. "Actually, I think Longbottom would make a decent Exorcist...I'm waiting for the Headmaster to allow that course at Hogwarts. I know an Exorcist that's better than I am that would be perfect for the position, if approved. There's a problem, though..."

"And that would be…?" Harry trailed off, expecting the vampire to answer.

"He's in Azkaban right now," Ahsimal said halfheartedly. "A few of my colleagues and I are just going to have to bust him out one of these days. Look, if he was guilty, I'd leave him in there, but I _know_ he's not a mass murderer like people claim."

"My godfather was innocent, too," Harry said flatly. He didn't know what prompted it, but something inside him told him to help Ahsimal free his friend. It would almost be like helping Sirius escape all over again. "Can we help you?"

"_We…_as in_ both _of us_?"_ Neville said shakily. "I don't know about this, Harry. It sounds a bit fishy."

"Could you give these letters to Snape and Skylarke, if you don't mind helping out?" Ahsimal handed a couple of letters in black envelopes to Harry. A seal he had never seen before was in plain view…it was a seven-point star with the phases of the moon in a circular formation around it. In the center of the star were two serpents, both of the tails in the other's mouth. A rather fancy initial was put on it, but only one letter…a rather fancy N in glowing red ink. "I beg you not forget to send those," Ahsimal said cautiously. "It's most important that they get these."

"Thanks, Professor," said Harry, putting the letters in his pocket.

"Well, Professor Ahsimal, Harry and I should be heading off toward Gryffindor Tower because it's getting late," said Neville jumpily. "Have a good night, sir." He tugged on Harry's shoulder and said, "Harry, come _on_."

"Oh, okay," Ahsimal said distantly. Something turned off in his eyes, but it then sparked back up. "You have my class tomorrow night, Potter. Longbottom, you've got me first thing in the morning, before sunrise. Don't oversleep, and pay close attention, because this is going to be an important lesson on...oh, never mind. I won't spoil the fun."

"I know we'll be beginning a new unit sometime this week, Professor," said Harry. "However, I'm curious as to _what_ you'll be teaching us. I hope it isn't nasty like last time, with that Zombie."

"Are you referring to that time we Revived Regulus Black on your first day in my class? As far as I know, the house elves won't go in the Slytherin Common Room anymore, because that Zombie is following Parkinson's orders and they're afraid that a mean-spirited girl like that would sick such a grotesque creature out on them."

"Are you going to report us?" Harry said all of a sudden.

"Over something like this? No," Ahsimal laughed and said, "Barely anyone wants to talk to me these days, so I really enjoyed having a decent conversation with humans." He then looked at his wristwatch and groaned. "Damn," he growled. "I have to go do something in about ten minutes." He put his slippers back on his white feet (he had an onyx toe ring on his left foot) and then walked out. "For your own sake, lads, don't stay up too late. Oh, and Longbottom…Potter has a Hawkbane card that allows him to be out of his House at this hour, and you don't. Maybe you should ask him if you can borrow that Invisibility Cloak of his before somebody else catches you."

With those words, Neville and Harry headed back toward their House quarters. They started walking down the same staircase, but saw a shadowy shape at the bottom. Harry left the Invisibility Cloak to Neville, because he knew that with his Hawkbane Card, he was allowed to stroll about campus this late if he chose to do so. Neville went ahead without him, but Harry went closer and closer toward the shady figure. He looked closely to see what it was. Because he/she was not moving, Harry turned the person over. He jumped back in surprise, because it was someone he knew, but it wasn't a student. It was none other than Leir, and he had been strangled to death. Harry didn't know what to do; but then he heard footsteps. He ran as fast as he could away from the body.

By the time Harry reached Gryffindor Tower, he had completely forgotten about the letters Ahsimal had begged him to send to Snape and Skylarke when he got the chance. He just drifted off to sleep and had a dream that he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

In Transfiguration, the next morning, McGonagall informed the class that their beloved Manipulations teacher had committed suicide. According to the press release concerning his death, Professor Wolfgang Leir, age 21, had poisoned himself with hemlock. Only Harry knew what had _really_ happened, and the truth was far too terrifying to release to the public. The girls in the class wailed, and the boys all looked pretty sullen about all of this. For the Hawkbane students, it felt like a part of each one of them had died along with Wolfe's bright, smiling face.

The funeral was a rather beautiful one; all the school's students, teachers, and college students from Lazulien University came all the way to Hogwarts to hold the service in memory of Wolfgang Leir. Dumbledore, not a minister, had been chosen to make this funeral one that nobody would be able to forget. Wolfe's body was placed in a rather fancy ebony coffin with white satin lining, and it surprised Harry to see how calm the corpse looked. He had seen the Manipulations master's strangled body three nights ago, and the expressions of pain and fear had been all over the young man's face. Now, however, one would have thought he had died peacefully in his sleep, by looking at him. A young woman with short blonde hair walked up toward Wolfe, holding hands with a man with spiky brown hair. The couple approached the coffin, and placed red roses in Wolfe's hands. The woman even kissed his dead cheek. Harry saw the looks on the faces of those two, and couldn't help but feel that these two had probably been Wolfe's closest friends…like Ron and Hermione were to him.

"Christine," the man said. "As long as we still have each other, he'll live on with us."

"I never got to tell him how much he meant to me, Malachi. If it hadn't been for you and Wolfe, I wouldn't have _any_ friends. You two mean the world to me. I just wish I could have taken his place…" Christine clung tightly to Malachi, who held her close.

Harry felt terrible for these two. '_Malachi, Christine, and Wolfe's parents need to know the truth…they need to know that he didn't kill himself.'_ "Hi," he said.

Christine turned around and gasped. "Oh my word; you're Harry Potter!" Harry sighed; he had gotten quite used to this by now. Some people acted really _weird_; Christine wasn't different.

"Yes, I am," said Harry. "Look, Christine, there's something you and Malachi need to know, and that's Wolfe did _not_ kill himself like the newspaper said."

Malachi's tan face turned pale, and then he turned to look at Christine. "See? I told you that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed Wolfe!" He then faced Harry and said frantically, "He was murdered, wasn't he? Wolfe wasn't the type that would poison himself, you've got to believe me."

"I believe you," Harry said. "However, I don't know who killed him. I found his body, and I think he was strangled."

"Oh my God," said Christine. "Who'd do something like that to Wolfe? He'd never harm anyone, I swear! Nobody knew your Manipulations teacher better than us. We've been close friends ever since we were Second Years."

"Well, Harry," Malachi said, holding Christine tight to him. "I'm sorry that we had to meet you at the funeral of our best friend. We really appreciate the fact that you told us how he really died."

"His death won't go unavenged," Christine snarled fiercely. "I can guarantee you that right now!"

The sermon that Dumbledore was giving droned on and on, and several more people came to pay their respects to their fallen joy. Even Dumbledore cried; he dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief and tossed it to the ground. Suddenly, Harry saw a couple that looked like they were in their early fifties walking toward the casket. Both of them took one look at the body and completely broke down. "Justinian!" the woman shrieked. "Look at our dear Wolfgang…our one and only child!"

Justinian wrapped his arms around his grieving wife. "Vesta, my beloved, it seems Fate has decided to make us childless."

"And I had been egging Wolfgang to marry Christine Peterson only days before he did this. If only I had known something had been troubling him this much, maybe we could have prevented this…Wolfgang, my baby! _Wolfgang_!" Harry told the parents about what he had seen, and tried his best to comfort them. Vesta and Justinian Leir's sadness could not be easily appeased. They kept on weeping over the death of their child. Vesta screamed, causing Dumbledore to stop his eulogy. "No parent deserves to witness the death of their hopes and dreams!"

Marcus was sitting with a pretty woman with mahogany-brown hair and gorgeous aqua eyes, looking quite miserable. Cassandra sat in between Ahsimal and Skylarke, and in her hands was a bouquet of black roses. Snape was over by the coffin, talking to Dumbledore. Hermione and Ron were sitting with the rest of the Weasleys (it turned out that Wolfe had been a good friend of Charlie's), and Hermione's eyes were flowing streams of tears. Draco was seated in-between his parents, and despite the pleased looks on the faces of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, their son looked like he was regretting something. Rick sat with his family (everyone except his half-sister, because Meredith had been killed a couple of weeks ago), and his face was buried in his hands. Atticus hadn't shown up because nobody had bothered to help him out of bed. Celia and Josh were sitting with Steve Goldman and a woman that just _had_ to be Josh's mum (reason being Josh had a striking resemblance to her). "Harry," Marcus said. "There's room here if you want a seat."

"Thanks, Marcus," Harry said, and then looked at the pretty woman in the black velvet dress and veil. "Who's that?"

"Stella Piper Cantarus," the woman said. "I'm Marcus's mum." She fanned herself with her hand, and sighed. "It's really quite a tragedy that someone so young would do such a thing."

"I didn't even realize Professor Leir was suicidal," Marcus whispered to Harry. "He didn't show any of the signs, did he? This was completely unpredictable."

The entire service lasted like that, and then Wolfe's family and closest friends were invited to the cremation. His ashes would be put in an urn and placed in the Leir Manor, where his grieving parents lived, now without any future in sight.

Most of the teachers had cancelled their classes for the rest of the week, because it was already Wednesday and a way of mourning the loss of their youngest educator. Since Leir was dead, the possibility of dropping Draco Malfoy from the Hawkbane program was in the air. "It's vine," Snitchgrass said. "That von't be necessary, Headmastore; I vill simply make Malfoy my second sponsored student."

Harry was glad that almost all of his classes had been pardoned for the week, but three of them still were going to be held; Curses & Rootwork, Necromancy, and Harry's least favorite class taught by his least favorite teacher…Potions with Snape.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven:

The Hidden Talent of Celia Wells

Harry walked toward Turret Thirteen, and waited nearly twenty minutes for Ahsimal to come and unlock the door. "Sorry for the wait," the teacher said sleepily, "but I was delayed." He looked around him and said, "Oh, good; a few of you actually bothered to show up. I guess the others just forgot that they still had Necromancy today. I'll be giving today's participants ten points for their House each, because I only see Potter, Snape, Malfoy, Cantarus, Wells, and Goldman standing before me. Therefore, thirty points to Slytherin, ten to Gryffindor, ten to Hufflepuff, and ten to Ravenclaw." Harry felt kind of bad that neither Ron or Hermione had bothered to show up; he'd have to partner up with someone else for a change. He was sure that Ahsimal was going to put them in group projects today, and it was a no-brainer that Celia and Josh would be working together; they always did that.

Celia tapped Josh on the shoulder. "Hey, Josh?"

"Yeah?" Josh said, eyeing his friend. After that little argument in the Great Hall, Celia and Josh had gotten back to being what they had been all along…good friends.

"Did you do your homework for Snape?" she asked teasingly.

"No," Josh said calmly. "Because we didn't have any, you goof!"

Celia glared at Josh jokingly and said, "Damn; I almost got you _that_ time!"

"No, you didn't," Josh jeered as he cuffed Celia on the shoulder.

"Hey, you!" she said, ruffling her friend's hair.

"No!" Josh whined. "Not my hair, Celia! I just fixed it to perfection!"

"Would the two of you _please_ stop that childish behavior before we begin?" Ahsimal said coldly. He shivered for a minute and wrapped himself up tightly; October was cool temperature-wise this year. "Since it is such a small crowd, how about I show you what's up in Turret Four?"

"That's where the Summoning Room is!" Cassandra exclaimed in sickening delight. "I've _always_ wanted to go up there, Darius!"

"You get to call him _Darius_, Cassandra?" Malfoy sneered. "I heard from Lisa that you two are quite a couple. Are you attracted to vampires, or just _freaks_?"

"Unlike you," Cassandra said in a rather angry tone. "Some people do not judge others by who and what they are on the outside. I do not portray myself as that _shallow_."

"Oooo!" said Celia. "That was a good one!"

The pale girl just blushed a little in the cheeks and said, "Thanks," before she moved up right next to Ahsimal. "So, what are the plans for today, Darius?"

"I'm going to show all of you the difference between Summoning and Reviving today," Ahsimal said. "To some of you, this is a mere review. However, I doubt all of you, with maybe one or two exceptions, have had any previous knowledge of Necromancy. Therefore, this will be quite a lesson today. You may work in groups of three or less, but be warned…_everything_ we cover today will be on your exams, so don't forget any of it."

Cassandra turned around and tapped Harry on the shoulder, "It isn't like Hermione to miss a class, even if it's Necromancy, which I _know_ she can't stand. Why didn't your best friends accompany you?"

"They just didn't feel like coming," Harry said. "I don't see why that would concern you in the least, Cassandra."

"You all know that Thursday, we'll be having the Halloween feast." Ahsimal gave off a fake-sinister laugh and then said, "Let us proceed with our Unit..."

Instead of the usual Necromancy lesson where they would be working with corpses that were already set up, Ahsimal had the students sit in a circle on the floor around the coffin. "Okay, if one of you acts up, I'll not only give you detention and take points away from your house, but you will be given absolutely no credit for today's lesson. Do I make myself clear? This is a very important subject, class, and should not be brushed aside if you have the desire to become a true Necromancer."

Harry sat between Marcus and Celia, waiting for his teacher to do something else. Ahsimal's pasty hands wiped the dust off of the casket's outer shell, but he didn't unlock the hinges like he usually did. Instead, he stood in his robes (they were scarlet taffeta today) and let out a rather long yawn. Everyone could see his two extremely sharp fangs as his mouth became wide open.

"We do not need a body today," he said quickly. "Since we are in Turret Four, the only reason we have one present is so I can show you, with a demonstration, the difference between the two most basic terms of the Magic of the Dead. Observe as I do this _carefully_, students." Ahsimal raised a ghostly white hand in the air. _"Rigoris Mortata!"_ he shouted as a golden-yellow smoke rose from the tip of his wand. "Tybalt Tellulan!" The vampire winked at Harry and his mouth silently gave the words '_thanks a lot for the idea, Potter.'_ The coffin did nothing, but a soul rose up from the ground…and he didn't seem too thrilled to be awoken from his sleep.

"Am I back yet?" the soul said excitedly. He then looked at his transparent palms and groaned. "Damn, I thought someone had Resurrected me." Tellulan looked about the classroom and snarled, "Who's the dolt that brought me back like this?"

"That would be me, Tybalt," Ahsimal said coldly. "Students, you just saw me acting as the Reviver. Now, watch as I show the difference between Summoning and Reviving." He raised his wand and shouted, _"Dispersium!"_ Tellulan's spirit got a frightened look to it, and then it split into several pieces before the "shards" finally plummeted underground. After the ghost had dispersed, Ahsimal let out a long yawn. "That was Reviving. According to idiots who know nothing about the art which is Necromancy, Summoning is when you conjure up the soul, and Reviving is when you put the soul back into the body. Neither of these are the correct terms to use. _Reviving_ is when you simply conjure up the soul, and _Summoning_ is when you wake the soul up by your own call. However, putting a soul into a dead body is the hardest thing to accomplish, and it took me a very long time to find out how to do so properly. The term used for that is _Resurrection_. Perhaps you have heard of it?" He raised a white eyebrow, and then said, "If you enjoy this course and don't already know, I have a second class where I teach the advanced forms of this magnificent practice late at night. Anyone who is trustworthy is welcome to attend these seminars." Ahsimal looked at Cassandra (and vice versa) and that glitter and sparkle was back in his mauve eyes. "There are some here that are truly _devoted_ to Necromancy…I wish them the best."

Harry paid close attention to the lesson, and watched as Ahsimal actually Summoned two other dead souls into the room through the course of the class. It was obvious that not only were the students having a fun time, but Ahsimal seemed quite pleased with himself. Suddenly, the bell rang and Necromancy was finished for the day. Celia and Josh rushed out as quickly as they could, and Cassandra kissed Ahsimal on the cheek and whispered a rather intimate "I'll see you later," in his ear. After the pinkness in the professor's cheek subsided, only Harry was left in the room with Ahsimal. "Is there something you wish to talk to me about, Potter?" Ahsimal said in his exotic, velvety voice. Those effeminate eyes of his were staring straight back at Harry, and his expression was impossible to understand.

"Yes," Harry said. "I was a bit worried about my grade in Necromancy."

Ahsimal stared at Harry for a moment, and then the serious look on his face shattered. He burst out into laughter, and tears of amusement issued out of his eyes. "You have nothing to worry about in here, Potter," Ahsimal said. "It may come as a shock to you, but you have one of the highest averages in here…even higher than Hermione Granger." Ahsimal laughed again as he saw the look of surprise on Harry's face. "I _thought_ you'd do that if I told you. Cassandra, of course, is succeeding in here, but it's not fair to compare the rest of you to her...she learned the basics of Necromancy before she learned how to walk." Ahsimal then got very quiet and then said, "Say, Potter…how would you like to attend my night lessons?"

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say. '_Maybe Ahsimal could show him how to bring Lupin and Sirius back from the dead...and maybe even his parents.'_ "I'd like that."

"If you are curious about a certain type of Necromancy, just let me know," Ahsimal's eyes were fiery now. "By the way, this option is not available to everyone; I only want the students with the most potential to be placed in my late-night course. Let's just make this our little secret." Ahsimal then handed Harry a piece of parchment with some handwriting on it. "In case any of your teachers give you any trouble for being tardy, I've written a note explaining everything." Suddenly, something sparked the albino's eyes, and then he faced Harry with a sudden look of remembrance. "I almost forgot! Harry, did you give Snape and Skylarke those letters a couple of days ago?"

"Er…" Harry said. '_Damn! I completely forgot!'_ "No, I didn't; it must have slipped my mind. After I saw Leir's body on the staircase, I didn't think the letters were so important anymore." Harry then realized that what he had said had been the absolute wrong thing to say. Ahsimal didn't look too happy about this statement.

"Those letters…do you want to know what they were about?" Ahsimal snarled. "They were concerning a close friend of ours that was wrongfully imprisoned. An innocent man is literally _dying_ in Azkaban, and the longer it takes for Severus and Morty to get those letters, the more time is taken away from my colleague." He sighed, and then calmed down a bit. "Very well, Harry. I'll just talk to them in person about this matter. Your first Afterlight lesson will take place Friday, November 1, in this room, at a quarter 'til midnight. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Harry nodded, and then left the room. He made sure he kept Ahsimal's note with him, just in case Skylarke didn't excuse his tardiness. He had been heading toward Turret Fifteen, but soon caught a glimpse of Furrier, so he turned his attention toward the cat Animagus. "Hey, wait up!" he said. "When's our next lesson in An imagery?"

Furrier's left kitty ear twitched and then he let out a low growling noise. "Next Monday, Potter. Check your schedule." He then started walking away from Harry, swishing his fluffy tail behind him. Harry sighed; Furrier had never been this ornery before…not even after the first Hawkbane Quidditch game.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Furrier let out a cat yawn and then sighed. "Halloween is tomorrow night, and do you know what that means?"

"It means that we'll be having our Halloween Feast on a Thursday," Harry said smoothly.

Furrier hissed and then said, "No, Potter...it may mean that for everyone else, but Halloween is a grim anniversary for me. You see, it will be half a decade tomorrow since I got stuck as a cat. Damn Quirrell; I hope he burns forever for what he did to me." Furrier then spat at Harry, "And I hope you'll join him someday! You ruined my only chance to be freed of the hex!" Furrier walked away from Harry in a rather angry fashion.

Josh and Celia came up behind Harry. Josh tapped him on the shoulder. "Guess what? I think Furrier hates you."

"You _think_!" Harry said, surprised. "Isn't it _obvious_, Josh? He thinks it's my fault that he's stuck as a cat for the rest of his life."

"Well, it partially _is_ your fault," Josh replied. "I hate to tell you, but that's the truth, Harry. You turned his only way out of the hex into dust. I'd hate you, too."

"Say, Josh…"

"Yeah, Celia?" Josh said.

"Did you do your homework for Snape?" Celia said.

"No!" Josh laughed. "We _didn't_ have any, silly!"

Celia then flinched. "Damn! I almost got you that time!"

"No, you didn't," Josh replied. "You tried that on me _before_ Necromancy, too!"

It was not a long walk from Turret Four to Turret Fifteen…there was a shortcut that Harry, Josh, and Celia used to get there. However, they were the last three to walk into the door. Marcus and Draco hadn't bothered to show up for Curses & Rootwork, and neither had anyone that had missed Necromancy. Cassandra was the only student inside the classroom, and Skylarke was sitting by his fireplace, silently watching the flames rise up. He slowly turned to face the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students. "I thought Cassandra would be my only pupil today…I guess I was wrong," was all the gaunt teacher had to say about the matter. He pulled his long, auburn hair back into a ponytail, and cleaned his glasses. "We will be studying the Laconus Curse today. Get out a quill and a piece of parchment…there is a lot you'll need to copy down."

Harry watched Josh and Celia sit next to each other. There was an empty seat in-between Josh and Cassandra, so Harry decided he'd sit there. "Hi, Cassandra," he said.

Cassandra yawned. "Hello, Harry." She then buried her face in a book she had been carrying with her all day, and didn't bother to look up again until Skylarke started the lesson.

"Write this down," the teacher said. "The Laconus Curse is an infamous spell that changes the appearance of the victim, and it will not wear off until a counter's used. This makes it more effective than a Polyjuice Potion. Can anyone tell me the words that activate the Laconus Curse?"

"_Laconus Anata!"_ Celia shouted, and pointed her wand at Josh. The Hufflepuff shifted into a perfect copy of Lewn, and flexed around the room in a flamboyant manner. Nobody in there could stop laughing...Josh was acting _exactly_ like seductive Professor Lewn.

"That was an excellent demonstration, Josh and Celia." Skylarke applauded his two Seventh Years, and then said, "Now, show me how you would counter it."

"_Laconus Prioritum!"_ Josh said. He held his wand up at himself and he shifted from Lewn back to his surfer-boy self. He blushed as Skylarke congratulated him on a job well done. "Thanks, Professor," he said as he sat back down. He looked delighted to have gotten a compliment from Skylarke. Those were rarely given out at all.

"It isn't every day that I get two students that cooperate as well as you two do," Skylarke said. "I will give Ravenclaw andHufflepuff ten points _each _for being prepared in my class, and for your wonderful teamwork." He stretched for a moment, and let out a really long sigh. Harry thought he heard something that sounded like bones cracking. "Since we're such a small group today, I was wondering…would any of you be interested in testing this Curse out on unsuspecting passersby?" There was a look of mischief on Skylarke's face; he was up to something and was probably enjoying the suspense he had stirred up.

"You mean you're actually _letting_ us use the Laconus Curse on people we run across in the hall!" Celia blurted. "I can't believe it…this is going to be so much fun!"

Cassandra pulled her wand out of her pocket and beamed. "If we run across Hagrid, I get first shot."

"You can attack Hagrid to your heart's desire, Cassandra," Celia said. "Josh and I want to fire this Curse at Mr. Filch…or Peeves!"

"Yeah!" said Josh. "I'll make Peeves pay for the time he stole my Dung Bombs! As for getting even with Filch, that's self-explanatory, isn't it?"

"Sure is," said Harry. He personally wanted to hit Snape or Malfoy with the Laconus Curse and turn them into a house elf for a day, but Filch sounded like he'd be fun to pester, too. "I couldn't agree with you more, my Hufflepuff friend."

"Everyone _must_ stick with me in the hall," Skylarke said, opening the door. "We must all be very quiet and make sure nobody catches any of you without me. If things go wrong, I think I can back you up and get you out of trouble…but I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

The four students and the teacher walked down a long corridor, and they could hear a voice in the hall. "Okay, Adonis, we'll get to Turret Two in a minute. I've got to take a leak, so would you mind waiting on me for a couple of minutes?" _That's Lewn_, Harry thought. He was right; Lewn and _Ebonyste _were heading towards Lewn's classroom to go do something. '_I bet both of them would be fun to hit with the Laconus Curse.'_ Harry raised his wand, and was about to utter the spell, but then someone stopped him. He turned to see Skylarke didn't look too thrilled.

"Harry, I wouldn't go about provoking Professor Ebonyste today if I were you." Skylarke then whispered, "Parenein and Snitchgrass come here around the same time every day…they'd be a lot more fun to torment. Trust me on this. The reason I'm trying to persuade you away from attacking Ebonyste isn't because I like him—actually that's extremely far off, because I can't stand that pointy-eared weasel most of the time—but it's because he's having one of those bizarre mood swings again. He's really ornery and I'm not sure what's bothering him."

At that precise moment, Parenein and Snitchgrass came out toward the staircase and began talking about something. "Okay, everyone," Skylarke said. "On the count of three, all of you are to shout _Laconus Anata_ and flick your wand at your Alchemy and Advanced Astrology teachers. Everyone, when you do this, picture a couple of Dementors in the back of your mind, okay? Does anyone have any questions?" There was dead silence except for the chatter coming from the two oblivious teachers. "Well, in that case," Skylarke said in his usually melancholy (however, today, it was pretty much the exact opposite; he sounded like he was having a very good time) voice, "Let's begin. One…two…three!"

"_LACONUS ANATA!_" the class shouted in unison. At that moment, Snitchgrass and Parenein both shifted into what looked like a pair of Dementors.

"Awesome!" said Celia. "This is great!" She then beamed at Josh. "You and I are going to have lots of fun with this Curse! Say, Josh? Why don't we get Peeves and Filch first chance that passes us by?" When Josh gave Celia a thumbs-up for approval, she squealed with delight.

"I really don't see any humor in Dementors," Cassandra said. "Professor, could we please change Professor Parenein and Professor Snitchgrass into something more _amusing_?"

Skylarke nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"Drat," said Harry. "They got away." That was really disappointing; Harry had wanted to give Parenein a full head of hair and a long, pointy nose. He looked about for something else to practice the Laconus Curse on, but couldn't find anything. Everyone was silent; footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor.

"Keep close to me, First Years," McGonagall said icily to a couple of First Year Gryffindors Harry recognized as Winnefred Weasley and Steve Goldman. "You know why I'm supposed to escort you both to your Charms class, don't you? It's because people caught completely alone or in small groups are ending up dead."

Josh turned to Celia and beamed. She returned the smile and said in a voice full of mischief, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, my clever friend?"

"I think so, Celia, my co-conspirator!" Josh said. "So…what will it be? Hog's nose, rat's tail, cat whiskers, or fish scales?"

"None of the above," Celia said evilly. "I was thinking about giving old McGonagall a beard. What do you think of _that_, my partner-in-crime?" She then asked the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. "Cassandra, Harry…what do you guys think? Doesn't a beard sound like fun?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes and engaged in a conversation with the lean professor. Harry, however, stated his opinion on the matter to his two older friends. "Yeah," was all he said to them. He then raised his wand and said in unison with Josh and Celia, _"Laconus Anata!"_

All of a sudden, McGonagall's chin started sprouting a long, iron-gray beard. She didn't realize this until Winnefred said something about it. Both of the First Years burst into giggling fits. It was hilarious until McGonagall found her culprits. "Potter, Wells, Goldman," she said, trying to figure out how to get rid of the beard. "What are you doing out of class…and why are you using a vulgar spell on innocent bystanders?"

"Well, Professor," Harry began, trying to figure out how he could word this without getting himself into even _more_ trouble than he already was facing. "Actually..."

"Minerva, it's my fault," Skylarke blurted, coming out of the shadows. "We were practicing the Laconus Curse. I thought it would be a good idea to practice on people instead of wooden masks for a change, you know, to make my course a bit more interesting. If anyone's to blame, it's me." He lowered his head in what appeared to be shame. Harry was glad the new teacher was taking his side, and smiled as Skylarke winked and mouthed the words, "It's an act; fools her every time." '_He's a pretty good actor_,' Harry thought happily.

"Well, just make sure I'm not around when you try to pull that stunt again, Mortimer," McGonagall said. "I'll forget all about this if you'd be so kind as to remove my beard."

Skylarke laughed (despite the fact that he looked dejected, he had a pretty cool laugh). "I'm glad you're being a good sport about this incident, Minerva. I really appreciate your cooperation." He stretched a bit and then said, "This brings us to the final part of our lesson today…the counter for the Laconus Curse. All you have to do is flick your wand and say _Laconus Prioritum_ to revert your victim—I meant to say _volunteer_, honest!—back to their original state. Okay, everyone, let's do this together to get the feel of the counter."

Cassandra, Josh, Harry, and Celia all shouted together, "_LACONUS PRIORITUM!_"

McGonagall's beard, which had been trailing the floor by this point, disappeared. "Thanks, Mortimer…students." She then walked off with Winnefred and Steve. "I'm pretty sure Professor Flitwick will want to know _why_ two of his First Years were late! Come _on_, you two!"

After McGonagall had left, Skylarke let out a long sigh. "My lesson for today is over, but the bell rings in two minutes. How about I just go ahead and let you go? Homework…read page 198 in Dr. Hemlock's Guide to the Most Maleficent Curses and answer the three questions on the Laconus Curse." The bell rang at that instant, so Skylarke just yawned. "I'll see all of you at dinner. Enjoy the rest of your day, since all other classes today are dismissed. I hear you all have Potions tomorrow? Good luck; your Potions Master's been in a pretty foul mood after hearing about the death of your Manipulations teacher, and for another...reason…" Skylarke walked off in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and seemed to disappear into the dark. Cassandra walked off in another direction.

"Harry," Celia said. "Josh and I are going to the Quidditch field, so I guess we'll be seeing you later. It's important that the two of us are alone, okay?"

'_Is there something going on between them? I thought Celia said that she and Josh were _**_never_**_ going to be a couple.'_ Harry sighed, somewhat relieved that the classes were over for the day. "Wait up, Cassandra!" he said, hoping the wan girl would obey the command.

Cassandra came to a complete halt. "What now?" she said in a rather irritable voice.

Harry jumped when he got a good look at her face; those were the darkest rings Harry had _ever_ seen under a person's eyes. She didn't look too thrilled to see him, either. Apparently, something was bothering her. "You look like you didn't get any sleep last night."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Vampires don't rest when they have a craving."

Craving? Was she craving **blood**? "Bloodthirsty?"

"Harry, stop joking; this is serious business. In a couple of days, I bet I'll be in Bloodlust. Madame Pomfrey won't even get me a bag out of the blood bank, and that's just making matters worse. If this keeps up, someone's going to have bite marks or worse on their neck." Cassandra's right eye twitched a bit and then she said, "Do you have any idea what Celia and Josh are going to be doing tonight at the Quidditch field? I couldn't help but overhear what they were talking about a moment ago, so I was wondering if they had told you."

"No, they didn't," Harry admitted. "Did they tell _you_?"

"Why would they?" Cassandra said halfheartedly. "I'm still an _outsider_, you know. Josh doesn't trust me, and Celia's also a bit wary of my kind." She yawned and said, "So, Harry…what exactly are you going to do with all of this free time we've got? It's the day before Halloween, and I just got a letter from my parents, telling me what my dad used to do that very evening when he was a student." Cassandra got a sneer on her face and let out a sinister giggle. "I'm going to try to talk to Darius and Mortimer about this…and see if they'd like to join in on the fun. Severus has been such a killjoy lately, so I really don't think he'd like to egg Hagrid's hut."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Don't do that to Hagrid!" he snapped. "What's he ever done to you?"

Cassandra tilted her head to one side, and the sneer got bigger. "What did I ever do to Damien Fallowin…or Mariko Mizuno, for that matter? No, wait…I'll scratch the egg thought out of my mind. A better idea just came up." She gave that sinister laugh again and said, "You'll find out what it is soon enough, and hopefully nobody's going to get hurt." Then, she smiled in a nicer way. "Maybe I should write my mum and dad and tell them that I finally made some friends here."

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Who's your dad?"

"Claudius Snape," Cassandra said. "Severus is his younger brother. I've got a picture of my parents in here somewhere." She looked about in her bag until she pulled out that black book and then slipped a picture out of the pocket on the inside cover. "This is my whole family last Christmas. That's the last time we all did something together. There's me in the front, with a red stripe in my hair, and there's Severus in the back. The boy in the front is Teiresias, my kid brother, and there's my mum right beside him. Darius and Mortimer are right there—they came along with Severus—and that's my dad on the far left. On the far right is Priscilla, my aunt on my mum's side of the family. She really doesn't like my dad or Severus...especially Severus."

"I wonder why," Harry said sarcastically as he took the picture out of Cassandra's pale, icy hands. "Could I get a better look at this?" He studied each face in the photograph. Cassandra looked the same in the picture as she did now; except she had a long piece of hair in the front dyed ruby red and was wearing a spiked dog collar and gothic makeup. Cassandra's mum had long, wavy, raven-black hair that trailed down to her knees. Her skin was very pale, and she was wearing some pretty dark eyeshadow to emphasize her bright green eyes; she was a very pretty and elegant-looking woman, dressed in a green silk dress. Ahsimal and Skylarke looked like they were having quite a bit of fun; both of them had a glass of red wine and looked like they were laughing at a very good joke. Ahsimal had been wearing a long, red robe, and had a Christmas ornament dangling out of his right ear where an earring was supposed to be. Skylarke was dressed in his usual; worn brown leather and jade silk, covered from the upper neck and down. Snape was scowling in the background, obviously wanting to be anywhere but with the rest of his family.

There was a pallid little boy with oval glasses, greasy black hair, and a rather prominent nose; it was scary how much he looked like Snape…this had to be Teiresias. Teiresias had a book in his hands, and was looking around to see what everyone else was doing. Cassandra's aunt, Priscilla, had wavy hair like her sister, only hers was red instead of black, and she had a rather snobby look to her; she was wearing a lacey green taffeta dress. Like Snape, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here in the photo. And at the far left was Cassandra's dad, Claudius Snape. He really didn't look too much like his brother—he had light blue eyes, chestnut brown hair, and a rather friendly-looking face—only his hooked nose made it obvious he was from the same family tree. There was also a house elf in the picture, eating a sugar cookie. "Who's the house elf belong to?" Harry asked.

"Oh, that's Kimmy," Cassandra said. "She's Priscilla's." She then snatched the photo back from Harry and said, "That's the last time I got to see my mum, dad, and Teiresias, okay? Priscilla's come over here once or twice to visit, but she's not that much fun to be around. All she ever does is gripe, complain, and talk trash about my dad's side of the family...and Darius."

"You really like Professor Ahsimal, don't you?" Harry asked, knowing it wasn't altogether his business.

Cassandra nodded. "He's the only other vampire I know, so I can speak with him in a way I can't with any of you that are _fully_ living. Darius is one of the noblest people I know, and I'd trust him with my very existence." She smiled as she said, "He was my first friend and never betrayed me…ever." Harry and Cassandra passed Turret Thirteen at that exact moment.

Harry kept on going, but Cassandra halted and got a bewildered expression on her face. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"It's been here…and it's taken--" Cassandra started, but then cut herself short. She rushed off without saying a word, her wand already pulled out in her left hand. "Don't follow me!"

Harry wanted to follow, but he decided it would be smarter to obey Cassandra for a change. He saw Celia and Josh walking down a corridor together, and he could hear their conversation…

"Someone's going to find out about you sooner or later, Celia. I don't see why you need to keep on hiding it from _everyone_ but me."

"Josh, you wouldn't understand; it's a safety precaution."

"But you let _me_ come, even though I can't do that."

"That's because you caught me when we were Second Years!"

"It's also because you like me..."

"As a _friend_, Josh; I like you as a _friend_."

"Yeah, sure, Celia; just admit it; you think I'm cute."

"Well, okay, you are, but you're still just my friend!"

"Look, I don't think anyone's going down this corridor. Why don't we just go down this way? It leads right to the Quidditch field….why in the name of Merlin do you want to go _there_ of all places? _Anyone_ could be out there..."

"The next Quidditch game isn't for another two weeks, silly. Nobody goes out there at night anymore due to that gorgonix thing Atticus keeps talking about."

"I guess you're right, but still…what if the gorgonix is out there?"

"Look, Josh…you know me, and you know what I can do…you know what I'm _about _to do. Do you think some monster's going to attack us after I shift?"

"I…I guess not."

"That's right. We'll be perfectly safe as long as nobody finds out about me."

Harry was very interested by now. Celia was going to do something at the Quidditch field, and only Josh knew about it. He pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and followed the two Seventh Years out to the field. He was not prepared to see what Celia did next.

"_Accio Telescope!"_ Josh said, and then a telescope appeared on the field. "Okay, Celia. I'll make sure nobody disturbs you as you do your evening exercise."

"Thanks," Celia said, and then blew Josh a kiss. "This has been a lot easier for me since you've started coming along when I do this. Raise the shield, Josh!"

"You've got it!" Josh said. _"Magarus Nistenia!"_ A golden mist surrounded the whole stadium. "Okay, I just made it where nobody on the outside can come in until we leave. Anyone already in here's stuck until I take that shielding spell off. Also, nothing from the outside can harm us, either. Any attacks will just be absorbed into the shield and make it stronger."

"Good thinking," Celia said. She then muttered a few words Harry couldn't hear, and _shifted_. She didn't look like Celia Wells anymore…Celia had transformed into a white wolf.

Harry had to hold his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream of shock and surprise._ 'What am I so surprised for? She _**_told_**_ everyone in Furrier's first Animagery lesson that she was a licensed Animagus.'_ Another thought struck him that made him a little jealous. '_Celia only told _**_Josh_**_ that she could change into a white wolf. Why didn't she tell the rest of us? Didn't she say she felt comfortable around us too?'_ He just watched as Celia the wolf ran about ten laps around the entire Quidditch field before she shifted back to her human form. "That was a good run," Celia said. "I'm going to walk with you to dinner, Josh. I hope that's alright with you."

"It always is," Josh said. "Now, what exactly are we going to tell Harry and the others we were doing? They'll be wondering where we wandered off to."

"Let's just say something important turned up that we had to take care of," Celia said. "Well, what? It _is_ the truth…we'd only be leaving out one very important part!" Josh looked about everywhere with a look of suspicion on his handsome face. "Is something wrong?"

"I get the feeling someone was watching us," Josh admitted. "Someone's been following us and saw you change into a wolf."

"It isn't that horrid Turpin girl, is it?" Celia asked nervously. "If Lisa saw us, the whole school will know what I've been doing every Thursday evening before dinner since I was eleven!"

Josh looked about in a wary manner, and then his eyes finally met Harry's. "Harry!" he said. "Were you spying on us?"

Harry gulped, knowing he had been caught. Josh and Celia didn't look too thrilled to see him, either. "I wanted to see what you two were going to do," he said. "Celia, I remember you mentioning that you were an Animagus. I had no idea you turned into a wolf!"

Celia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look, Harry, don't tell _anyone_ what you saw out here. You've _got_ to promise to keep this secret. What would people do if they found out that I could turn into a wolf at will? That could jeopardize my life."

Josh gave Harry a cold look. "If you do anything to harm Celia, I swear I'll kill you."

Celia rolled her eyes. "Josh, spare us _all_ the melodrama! Harry just made a mistake, that's all. It's no big deal…as long as he doesn't tell anybody." She then turned toward Harry and said, "Look, you can tell Ron and Hermione if you want to, but I don't trust any of those Slytherins, not even Rick. It would be best that you keep this out of their earshot. Who knows what Malfoy or Cassandra would do?"

Josh sighed. "Cassandra probably wouldn't _do_ anything, because we know she's a filthy bloodsucker and could always threaten to blow her cover, but she'd act weirder than usual and probably wouldn't trust _us_ anymore." He groaned. "Don't even get me started with Malloy."

"Does Atticus know?" Harry asked. Josh gave him another dirty look.

Celia nodded. "Yeah, he knows. Until you caught me, only Josh, Atticus, and Professor Furrier were in on my little secret. I'd given out a clue in Animagery, but you notice I didn't tell anyone what animal I was able to change into."

Josh said, "There are only seven registered Animagi in the past century. Minerva McGonagall the Transfigurations teacher, Cassandra Snape the vampire, Celia Wells the siren..."

"Oh, shut up, Josh," Celia said. "I'm not that pretty."

"Yes, you are," Josh said. "Now, where was I? Oh, right…the others that were registered were Alexander Furrier our Animagery teacher, Aurelius Fallowin who's currently in Azkaban for numerous crimes, Mia Twitchett the band and orchestra director over here, and an old fart named Albert Silverman." Josh groaned. "I actually got to meet Mr. Silverman before. He used to be in the Department of Relics for the Ministry of Magic. They deal with all sorts of magical weapons that are supposed to be kept top secret to the public, some of them are really old. Sure, he's really nice, but he's definitely lost a lot of marbles. He says there are demons possessing things in his house, yet he refuses to get an Exorcist to do anything about it. Silverman's a cuckoo, no doubt about it." He then jumped back on topic. "Well, enough of that; Harry, you _better_ keep this under wraps!"

"Don't worry," Harry said. "I will."

Celia smiled, but Josh scowled. "I believe you, Harry," Celia said.

"I don't," Josh snarled. "Go away and don't bother us again."

Not everybody sat together at dinner; Josh, Atticus, and Celia were seated at the far end of the Hawkbane table. The rest of the group of friends sat with Harry in the opposite direction. Cassandra picked at her food and then nibbled a bit on her celery sticks. "What's the matter?" Ron asked. "Not hungry?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Pansy Parkinson's in the infirmary; whatever-it-is that's been killing everyone off lately tried to get rid of her. Lucky for her, Darius and Mortimer got there in time to ward it off. Whatever that monster is, it seems to be afraid of vampires and Mortimer."

"Are you sure Skylarke's not a vampire too?" Rick asked.

"He's not a vampire," Cassandra said flatly. "Trust me; I'd be one of the first to know if he was one, and I assure you he's far from being a vampire."

"He's not normal, though," Marcus said. "There's something really weird about that guy."

"Skylarke's hiding something," said Draco as he took a bite of his pork tenderloin. "He's got to be paranoid for a _reason_, right?"

"I couldn't agree more," Rick said as he slurped down the last of his French onion soup. "Draco, you seem to be finished, too. Why don't you and I head up to the Slytherin Common Room to go into detail about what we're going to be doing tomorrow night after the feast?"

"Good idea, Rick," Draco said. "Marcus, you're coming with us."

"Why me?" Marcus groaned. "I'm not finished with my cheesecake yet!"

"It's about you-know-what and concerns you-know-who." Rick dragged Marcus away from the table, and so all the Slytherins in the group (except Cassandra, who was being unnaturally quiet) left for their Common Room. "Come _on_, you two! Cain's waiting on us!"

"Well, _that_ was weird," Ron said. "Malfoy, Rick, and Marcus aren't in a chatty mood, Cassandra and Hermione aren't trying to lecture us on good study habits, Celia and Josh don't want to talk to us and they've taken Atticus, and Harry…you seem preoccupied. What's going on? We're supposed to have fun tomorrow since it'll be Halloween."

"Ron, I can't tell you; I'd be putting someone in jeopardy if I did."

Cassandra looked up. "I'm in a similar situation, Harry. I already know about what you're trying to conceal."

"You do? How!" Harry said in surprise. He rolled his eyes as Cassandra muttered the words '_vangelico Macedalion_.' "Mind your own business, Cassandra, and get a life."

"How can I get a life?" Cassandra snarled sarcastically. "Or shall I suck one out of a volunteer? Harry?" She then made her food disappear.

"Aren't you hungry?" Hermione asked. "You usually eat quite a lot."

Cassandra shook her head. "I think seeing Pansy made me lose my appetite for food. I'm beginning to crave something else…something much harder to get without hurting someone. Hermione, I am beginning to feel sick because I'm beginning to go into Bloodlust."

Hermione's face turned really pale. "Harry, Ron…I think we should move over to another spot and leave Cassandra alone for a while; vampires can get dangerous if they deny themselves blood for a very long period of time." She then asked Cassandra, "Have you ever _bitten_ anyone?"

"No," Cassandra said smoothly. "Madame Pomfrey usually gives me small vials of blood out of the school blood bank and tells me to drink them whenever I like, as long as nobody is watching me. However, lately, everyone's been staring at me. It's all that Turpin girl's fault for spreading all of those rumors that I'm a cold-blooded killer that won't hesitate to murder someone for their blood. That would only happen if I lost my mind due to the cravings. Since everyone thinks I'm dangerous, Madame Pomfrey has been refusing to give me anymore blood until I calm down and control my temper. Nobody understands…it's the cravings that make me irritable."

Hermione turned toward Ron and Harry and asked, "Is there a vampire support group?"

Cassandra sighed. "Dumbledore's wary of vampires, and the only reason Darius still teaches here is because he's taught at Hogwarts ever since it began as a school…and also because there's not a better Necromancer to be found in the entire wizarding world. He tries his best to conveniently _forget_ that I'm one. Most people here just think it's a stupid rumor that I'm a vampire, and don't completely believe it, and only very few know the actual truth." She smiled timidly, like a prisoner who knows in the back of their mind that they aren't going to be shown any mercy. "I trust you will keep that secret until I'm gone and completely dead."

"You can count on us," said Ron. "We haven't done anything that suggests otherwise, now have we?"

"Okay, you've proven your point," Cassandra said. "That is a heavy secret, so conceal it in the very depths of your soul. You know of this, so I trust all of you to be my Secret-Keepers as well as my best friend that I haven't introduced any of you to yet."

"You won't regret it," Hermione said, taking in her last bite of cranberry sauce. "We wouldn't betray you unless you gave us a reason to do so."

Cassandra then got up and said, "I've got to see Darius about something, so I guess I'll see all of you in Potions tomorrow. After all, that's our only class that hasn't been cancelled for Halloween…and we _do_ have that together."

"I'm kind of glad she left," Hermione said as Cassandra walked off to talk to the Necromancy teacher. "That green flame in the back of her eyes gets me worried sometimes. That might just be a sign of vampiric Bloodlust, but it might also be a symbol of Voldemort—oh, stop shaking, Ron; it's _just_ a name—and the Death Eaters. Is there any chance she's involved with that crowd, Harry?"

"When Snape caught me looking in her Pensieve when she was in the infirmary, he said Cassandra wouldn't want to join with the Death Eaters. Either we take that slimy git's word for it, or believe he lied straight to my face."

"Harry," Ron said, finishing off the last of his chocolate ice cream. "Knowing Snape, the latter wouldn't surprise me in the least."

"Ditto," Hermione said, writing a rather long essay on a piece of parchment.

"Who's that for?" Ron asked. "Is it another love letter to Krum?"

"No," Hermione said flatly. "This is that essay Wolfe wanted on manipulating inanimate objects. Have you and Harry finished yours yet?"

"Hermione," Ron said. "Wolfe Leir _died_ this week, remember? There is no way that he's going to be checking those since he's a corpse now."

"I know that," Hermione snapped. "Dumbledore's trying to find another person to permanently teach Manipulations. Until then, we've got a substitute that _will_ be checking those essays first thing Tuesday morning!"

Harry groaned; it was Wolfe Leir's revenge from beyond the grave…his final act as teacher was to assign everyone to write a five-foot essay to finish the excruciatingly long unit they'd covered on manipulating things that had never been alive. Even though the subject had been fairly interesting, it was _still_ a long assignment nonetheless. '_I bet Hermione, Atticus, and Cassandra are the only ones that have started working on those damn essays.'_ "Any ideas who's going to be the substitute, Hermione?"

"Not a clue," Hermione said. "I just hope it's someone like Wolfe. He made Manipulations so much fun and so easy to understand for beginners…"

"Lisa Turpin told me you got an 'Acceptable' in that class, Hermione. If it's so easy, how come Manipulations is your lowest grade?" Ron asked, and then came up with a rather humorous thought. "Oh, I guess maybe you spent the whole period watching him and drooling over his stunning good looks!"

"Well," Harry said teasingly. "Ron, at least Hermione's not fawning over Lockhart anymore."

"Stop picking on me, you two!" Hermione snapped. She then got up to talk to Ginny and Luna. "So…what are you two up to?"

"Nothing much," Ginny said flatly. "Luna's just reading the Quibbler again."

Luna looked up and said, "Did you know that Professor Lewn is really a man?"

Ron sighed. "Harry, what are we going to do after the Halloween Feast tomorrow night?"

"I have no idea, Ron," Harry said honestly. "I was thinking about sitting in the study, writing a letter to Mad-Eye and see how he's doing."

"That's a good idea," Ron said. "Or maybe…we can spy on Cassandra again!"

Harry cringed, remembering what had happened the _last_ time he and Ron had done that. Sebastian's ghost had panicked and almost killed Cassandra. "No, Ron! That would be a _bad _idea! Do you want to end up getting attacked by Sebastian again!"

"No," Ron said flatly. "I just thought that maybe we could see why she's been sticking really close to Skylarke and Ahsimal lately. She's connected to this gorgonix thing, I can tell. You personally said that Cassandra might know who Mortius really is. Before he kills someone else, I'd like to find out. Maybe this whole gorgonix thing is nothing but a cover-up for Mortis."

"You might be right, Ron…maybe Cassandra knows what's really going on and just doesn't want to tell us."

"So, are we going to follow her?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, when's our chance?"

"At the feast, we can always ask her..."

"No, Harry!"

"What's wrong _now_!"

"She might get angry. Maybe it would be better to just follow her from a safe distance?"

"That sounds reasonable..."

"What are you two up to?" a third voice asked.

"Professor Nezura!" Harry and Ron both gaped as Mitzi jumped into the conversation. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I _was_ eating, but then it looked like you two were going to do something roguish…I wanted to be part of it. So, what's up?" Mitzi's big eyes were looking straight at them, as if they were daring Harry and Ron to prove her wrong.

"Nothing much," Harry said. "Remember Mortis?"

Mitzi blanched, and her eyes widened a bit. "Y-yes…I r-remember Mortis."

"I think we might know someone who knows who he really is, but just doesn't want to tell us," said Ron. "Our witness's name is Cassandra Snape."

"You think _she's_ part of this whole gorgonix story!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she and some of the other teachers just made up that excuse to cover up Mortius," Harry said. "We're suspecting Skylarke, Ahsimal, Cassandra, and Snape right now..."

"I've had my eye on Ahsimal for a while, lads; he's definitely connected to what's going on," Mitzi yawned. "I wouldn't be too surprised if _he's_ Mortis!"

Harry sighed. "You know, you might be right."

"So, how about you two spy on Cassandra, and I go spy on your Necromancy master?" Nezura said; her voice filled with excitement. She looked almost ecstatic about this whole ordeal.

"Sure," Ron said. "See you later, Professor."

"Bye!" Mitzi said as she hopped off to talk to Lewn about something. "Hello Claire!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "She's been really jumpy and accusatory lately. I wonder what's gotten into her."

"There's no telling," Harry said. "Ron, how about we go check out the Labyrinth again? I'm sure we'll get some sort of clue in there."

"I'm not going today, Harry. I want to talk to Celia about something," Ron said. "I'll see you in the Common Room later on tonight."

"Okay," Harry said. '_I don't want to go alone, though.' _ looked around, and noticed that Luna was still eating her dinner…macaroni and cheese with shrimp in it. "Luna, would you like to see something really weird?"

_Weird_ had most certainly been a good choice of words; Luna finished her meal really quickly, and then beamed at Harry. "Sure! What is it?" she said in her dreamy voice.

Harry and Luna walked off toward the Labyrinth, and took the Invisibility Cloak with them. There was a light tapping of a girl's footsteps further on up, but Luna really didn't pay any attention to that. "Who's that?" Harry said, not quite sure.

"Nobody," Luna said. "At least, that's what I think. I'm guessing it was just me." She stopped, but the footsteps could still be heard. "Well, I guess it's just an echo of my walking. Who'd want to follow us anyway?"

"You know what, Luna? You'd be surprised," said Harry. "Come on, before someone notices we're off in this direction." He then froze to see a hooded figure, just like the one he had spotted last time. It walked gracefully deeper and deeper into the marble Labyrinth, and a ghostly green glow was issuing out of a lantern held in a rather pale hand…a girl's hand. _I bet that's Cassandra_, Harry thought. "Luna, I've got a pretty good feeling who the person in the hood is."

"So do I," Luna said dreamily. "I bet it's a Death Eater."

'_That really wouldn't be all that surprising, either.'_ "Let's stay far behind whoever-it-is."

"Okay."

Luna and Harry followed the hooded girl even up to the point where everything but that dim green light was black in darkness. They both saw their "guide" finally come to a halt and pull her hood back; it was Cassandra, just as Harry had suspected. In her hand was a tiny bottle that had a dark, thick substance in it…_fresh _human blood. "Finally, a bit of privacy," Cassandra grumbled. She looked left and then right; her eyes wandered toward the Invisibility Cloak for what seemed like the longest time. However, her stare just went around the entire three hundred and sixty degrees before she opened the vial and poured the contents down her throat. It seemed like a bit of color had returned to her face, and her eyes seemed a lot more fiery now. She pulled her black book out once more, and sat there writing for nearly fifteen minutes. Suddenly, footsteps could be heard coming down from the Labyrinth…footsteps that were nowhere near as graceful as Cassandra's.

"Who's there?" Cassandra asked. "Argus, is that you? If so, you know perfectly well I've got permission to use the Aerie." She peered over to the side for a moment, and there was no reply. "Argus, I'm really not catching the humor in this--" Cassandra looked around the corner, and screamed. She dropped her black book (that was her journal and reference book as far as Harry knew; he _did_ know, however, that this book was very important to Cassandra) and fled as fast as she could.

Luna whispered to Harry, "What do you think she saw?"

"I have no idea," Harry said seriously. He looked around, and then saw a silhouette that was slowly, but surely, getting bigger. There was no mistaking it; this was a Death Eater. After Cassandra had completely left the area (still screaming at the top of her lungs), everything went pitch-black in the utmost darkness. "Now what do we do?" he whispered to Luna. "We can't light up our wands, because that would attract attention toward us. We're supposed to be invisible, remember?"

"Damn," said Luna. "I wanted to see who the Death Eater was. Wait, listen…he or she wasn't alone."

Harry and Luna heard another set of footsteps at that very moment. "Ah, yes," said a voice that had become rather familiar to Harry by now…Mortius. "Nobody's allowed up here except a few select students and the most trusted members of the faculty. Thanks for supplying me with the key, my dear friend and ally."

"It's not a problem, Mortius," said another voice Harry recognized as Ebonyste. "I know where to get the mirror of Macedethe."

"So do I, Adonis."

"What about the vampire's elixir?"

"I know of _two_ places I can get that; the Snape girl and we could always confront Darius."

"The blood of a Shadow…don't you think Atticus will object to giving you _that_?"

"Atticus Shadow the Ninth might, true," Mortius said. "I'll get it from his grandfather, so that's not such a big deal."

"So…you still need the tear from a descendant of Dumbledore, am I correct?"

"It needs to be shed for me, too," Mortius said. "How can I get something like _that_ to happen?"

"Shift into her parents," Ebonyste suggested. "Celia Wells is the granddaughter of Dumbledore, after all. She lost both her parents, and I bet seeing one of them from beyond the grave would make her cry."

"I've already got the water from the Fountain of Youth; Claire gave it to me freely, probably because she always has had a soft spot for me."

"Part of the soul of the arch nemesis of the Dark Lord…won't that be hard to do? I'm sure everyone would raise Hell if Potter went missing for a long period of time; Mortius, you _can't_ risk that! You'd blow your cover immediately!"

"Don't worry, my friend," Mortius said smoothly. "An old friend of mine is taking care of Harry personally. She owes me a favor, so helping me in the last thing I'll ever do…that would count, wouldn't it?"

"I…I guess so."

"To complete this ritual, I'll have to kill myself or someone else that might be good for the Cause," Mortius said. "I'm frightened. This Raid we're planning over at Hogwarts on the Sixth of November will probably be the last time I'll ever have some fun. I want to die a glorious death for our cause, even if that means letting my body become a shell for something more dangerous. Then, and only then, can I truthfully consider myself a true follower of Lord Voldemort."

"Mortius, you're loyal even to death; that is rare to find these days. I'm a traitor, and I've got to live the rest of my life with that guilt…"

"Adonis, don't kid yourself. You made some choices that changed you, that's all. Nobody's blaming you for changing sides."

"_Lumos!"_ Ebonyste said. "Look, Mortius! Cassandra Snape left that mirror of hers when she took off just a minute or two ago. Maybe we can use it!"

'_No_, _not that. Get your hands off of her stuff. She isn't here to defend herself, so lay off Cassandra's mirror.'_

"Adonis!" Mortius shouted.

"Yes?"

"_That's_ the Mirror of Macedethe! There were only three of them. We stole the first one from Míguel already, and Icarus is willing to let me borrow his for that one night we've got all planned out. Hand me that damn mirror, Adonis…_now_!"

"It'll look suspicious, so maybe we should leave it where it is," Ebonyste said, and then he gave out a quick, fake laugh. "Oh, look at the time! Mortius, we've got to be heading over toward breakfast now or people will get suspicious. You _can't_ be late because you're pretending to be someone who is far from being expendable to Hogwarts."

'_Is Mortius pretending to be _**_Dumbledore_**_!' _Harry thought. He looked at Luna for a minute; she was being quiet as the grave because she wanted to hear the entire conversation.

Ebonyste stomped out, and Luna followed. "What are you doing, Luna?" said Harry.

"Following Professor Ebonyste," she said. "It's dark in here, and his eyes glow. Besides, he's a Ravenclaw teacher, so I can trust him."

"He was a Death Eater!" Harry whispered harshly.

"'_Was'_ is the key word, Harry. Professor Ebonyste cut the Dark Mark out of his arm right in front of the whole Ravenclaw House at the beginning of the school year." Luna then walked off until there was a bit of light where she could see where she was going. Harry could hear her say, "Professor Ebonyste, can I ask you about something? What do you think of the Loch Ness sea monster?"

"I think it's just a bunch of bullshit," Ebonyste said flatly.

"Well, thanksfor being _honest_, Professor," Luna growled, walking off with the Quibbler.

Harry heard Mortius say in his deep, droning voice, "Ah, yes…Sebastian really didn't want Tybalt to find that one thing he'd been keeping up here for ages. Luckily, he didn't…_but I did_." He stood there, and Harry heard something that sounded like cloth being torn. "Tybalt, you didn't think I could do it! Look at me now…who's going to be remembered in wizarding history for centuries…you? Don't make me laugh; you'll just be remembered as the son of a bitch that killed the youngest Potions Master we ever had here at Hogwarts." There was some rather cruel laughter, and the tearing sound increased. "Mitzi Nezura, you're next on the list of the…er…_gorgonix_."

"No!" Harry shouted, tearing the Invisibility Cloak off of his body. He pulled out his wand and felt the deepest, darkest desire to do harm to this foul voice. He'd never seen the face of Mortius, yet he knew that deep inside he had an unquenchable hatred for this Death Eater.

"Who's there?" Mortius said calmly. He didn't even act alarmed. "_Lumos!_" At that exact moment, the light shone on Harry's face. "Harry Potter?" He didn't sound too intimidated to be face-to-face with a sixteen-year-old wizard. He gave a short, arrogant laugh. "Did you come to me unaccompanied?"

Harry tried to think up a lie that this man would believe. He remembered what McGonagall had been saying to Winnefred and Steve earlier…_people caught completely alone or in small groups are ending up dead_. He bit his lip and said, "No, I didn't."

"That's strange," Mortius taunted. "There doesn't seem to be anyone with you. Oh well, I guess that means that you're just stuck in the presence of a foe that you know that you cannot defeat." He laughed evilly. "You haven't even seen my face, so you'd never be able to spot me!"

Harry's lip curled in disgust. He raised his wand up and then shouted, _"Crucio!"_ He knew that it was an illegal curse, but he didn't care right now; he just wanted to cause Mortius, whoever he was, serious pain and injury.

Mortius screamed for a minute and then laughed. "I thought Bellatrix taught you your lesson on the Crucatius Curse _earlier_ this year when you were in the Department of Mysteries!" Mortius was wearing a hood; Harry couldn't see any of the man's face…except for below his nose. His skin was like that of a corpse, pure white with black, thin veins and a slimy-looking texture like a Dementor's flesh. His smile was cruel and mocking, and his teeth were like Tellulan's…large, bone-colored and skeleton-like. "Tell me, what was it like for you when you lost your godfather behind the Veil? How long did it take you to realize he died and wouldn't be coming back?" The shrill laughter was rather quiet; Mortius was trying his best not to raise his voice. As he laughed, something inside him seemed to be screaming deep within his body, as if it was being tortured. "Would you like to see who I am pretending to be, Harry?" Mortius crowed. "Nobody's going to believe you, anyway."

As Mortius pulled back his hood, Harry couldn't see him clearly; the light was too dim. When the man turned around, he looked exactly like Professor Snape. The deep voice changed to match the vocals of the Head of the Slytherin house. "Let me put it this way, Potter; I'm a Metamorphmagus. Tell whoever you like, but nobody's going to believe you when you say that I'm not Severus Snape." There was a cruel smile on that familiar and unpleasant face. "I'm one of the best actors you'll ever run across; never once have I behaved out-of-character when I had an audience."

"What happened to the real Snape?" Harry asked. Mortius didn't answer; he just grinned in a rather sickening and sadistic way. "Why you..."

"Severus, Harry…there you two are!" said Dumbledore, coming as quickly as he could. "Are you restarting your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, Harry?"

"Er..."

"Yes, he is," Mortius said in a voice that was identical to Snape's. If he hadn't admitted that he wasn't the real Snape, Harry would have never known; the impersonation was flawless. "I'm ready to start teaching him again, but he'll need to be more respectful and considerate. I think it's about time Potter learns his rightful place and realizes that he's not any better than anyone else." Mortius scowled perfectly and curled his lip up just like Snape did. Obviously, Dumbledore (and everyone else) was fooled by the imitation and saw no flaws in the character of the Potions Master.

"Harry needs to learn how to protect himself, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You just have to make sure that you don't confuse him with his father; they are _not_ the same person, after all."

"They're pretty similar," Mortius grumbled, just so Harry and Dumbledore could hear him.

"Well, it's about time that we start getting some rest for tomorrow. Harry, I ran across Luna Lovegood in the hall on my way over here. She was wondering where you were."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, it was nice of her to ask…"

At breakfast the next morning, Celia and Josh were still avoiding Harry and giving him the same disgusted look. They also had Atticus sitting with them. "Don't let them get to you, Harry," Neville said. "Josh is an arrogant prick that thinks he's better than everyone else, and Celia just follows his example most of the time because they're such good friends..."

"Don't go badmouthing Celia!" Ron said. "She's probably just afraid that Harry will tell someone like Lisa Turpin about her wolf transformation. Josh, on the other hand, _is_ being an arrogant prick, just like you said, Neville."

"What about Atticus Shadow? Why's he over there with them?" Luna asked.

"Atticus is best friends with Celia and Josh," Hermione said flatly. "He's not mad at _us_, but they're holding him hostage over there…and there's no way to get him out."

Everyone sniggered at Hermione's jest, and then Cassandra walked over there with her breakfast bowl in her hands. "Hi," she said shakily. "Could I sit with you?"

"Sure, why not?" Ron said. "There's a seat available where Isis was supposed to be meeting us today."

"She's not coming," Hermione said. "Isis has a new boyfriend."

"Who's the lucky guy?" asked Harry, digging into his oatmeal. "I really hate this stuff."

"Seamus Finnigan," Hermione said. She then pointed at the Gryffindor table.


	13. Chapter 12

Hello everyone! I just wanted to drop in a quick note to ask those of you reading to please drop me a line or a review to tell me how I'm doing. I got pretty good reviews on another site, but seeing as this is one of the best sites to post on, I'd really be appreciative if you all would let me know if you like the story or not! Thanks for reading and here's the next chapter!

Chapter Twelve:

The Halloween Masquerade

And, sure enough, just as Hermione had said, Dean and Seamus had a girl with cedar hair, teal eyes, and a Ravenclaw uniform sitting at the Gryffindor table with them, eating a pancake. "Well, Isis is a nice girl," Hermione said. "I'm sure that she and Seamus will be happy together."

"Isis never stays single for long," said Luna.

"I think it makes her look like a slut," Cassandra admitted, finishing her green tea. She then tapped the teacup with her wand and it filled back up. She took another sip, and then applied a bit of gothic makeup onto her face.

"I think that black lipstick you're wearing makes _you_ look like a slut, Cassandra," said Hermione. Cassandra glowered.

"I don't think she looks like a slut," Luna said, giggling. "I think she looks freshly embalmed and ready to put into a coffin." There were a couple of laughs at the table. Everyone found that last comment rather funny, including Cassandra, who hardly ever laughed anymore.

"That was pretty good," Cassandra said, and then she raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe we've met."

"We haven't," Luna said, and then held out her hand to shake with Cassandra. "I'm Luna Lovegood, Fifth Year Ravenclaw. I know your first name is 'Cassandra,' but who are you, exactly?"

"Cassandra Snape, Sixth Year Slytherin," Cassandra said and gave her rather-familiar smirk as she shook hands with Luna. "It's nice to meet you, Luna."

"Did you know 'Cassandra' is Greek for 'Prophet of Doom,' by any chance?" asked Luna.

Cassandra nodded and smiled before letting out another snigger. "It really fits me, doesn't it? My kid brother was named after another Greek prophet of death and destruction."

"Really?" Luna said, beaming. "That's pretty neat. What's his name?"

"Teiresias," Cassandra said smoothly. She showed Luna a picture of a raven-haired little boy chasing a moving broomstick. Luna smiled and commented on how cute Teiresias was. "I don't know about that," Cassandra admitted. "_Cute_ is not a word I'd use to describe him. He's such a clever boy, so I'm pretty sure he's going to end up in Ravenclaw like you."

"Well, if he does," Luna said, "then I'll be more than glad to help him out!"

"Thanks," said Cassandra.

Suddenly, Luna pointed at Cassandra and said in her dazed voice, "You're a vampire."

"That's right," Cassandra said. "Darius and I _both_ are vampires."

"You mean Professor Ahsimal, right?"

Cassandra smiled in a sinister way and gave a Dracula-type laugh. "You could say that the Necromancy teacher and I are very…good friends."

Luna was simply eating all of this up; it was clear that she liked Cassandra's unusual personality and behavior. The two girls seemed to become friends almost instantaneously. "Hey, would you like to sit next to me?" Luna asked, her voice sounding much clearer than normal.

"Sure!" Cassandra said cheerily. "You're one of the few people that doesn't seem to think I'm a freak of nature or a creature of darkness..."

"But you _are_ a creature of darkness, Cassandra!" Ron blurted. "You _are_ a vampire, after all. You know…your kind feeds off the blood of innocent people and have no qualms about giving _anyone_ a good ol' bite, right? Now, are you a vampire or not?"

"Well, yes, I am one…but vampires are probably the most misunderstood people in the world." That green fire in the back of Cassandra's eyes flared up again. Clearly what Ron had said had greatly upset her, because she then snarled, "We're not _all_ vindictive monsters, you know. Slayers of innocent humankind, treacherous bloodsuckers with no morals, mischievous thieves of all happiness, spawn of all that is evil, the ideal candidates for the Dark Arts …and you think we _can't_ hear any of this? Just who do you people think you are? I've heard what you've said about my kind, and I _don't_ appreciate it at all! Do you see me talking trash about humans! And for your information, I've never bitten anyone."

Cassandra looked like she was about to cry, and that fire was just getting sparked up again. She sat down next to Luna and pulled out her black book.

"Look, Cassandra," Ron said in a rather hurt tone. "I was just teasing you a little, okay? I didn't mean anything by it, honest!" He smiled weakly and tried his best to appease the angry vampiress. "I hope I didn't hurt your feelings...I'm sorry if I did."

Cassandra sighed and said, "Well, you did cut me pretty deep, but…apology accepted." She shook hands with Ron and then finished her breakfast. "Well, the only class we've got scheduled for today is Potions…so, what are we going to do after we're finished?"

"What do you mean '_we'_!" Hermione snapped at Cassandra. "You've already proven to us that you're an unstable person and a potential threat..."

"Oh, really?" Cassandra said, her voice still showing signs that she was highly offended by all of this. "Well, I can see that I'm clearly not wanted over here. I thought that Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the kindest Houses …after meeting you guys and that _horrid _Josh Goldman fellow I realized that _I was horribly mistaken._ I've just discovered that it's the Ravenclaws who are the nicest!" She picked up her supplies and stomped off toward the Dungeon. "Luna, thank you for being nice to me; I really appreciate your hospitality."

"It's not a problem, you know," Luna said as she finished her eggs. Cassandra left the room completely at that point, irate with everyone except Luna. "I'll see you near the library." Cassandra didn't hear her; she was already halfway down the corridor.

Harry felt terrible; he had wanted to ask Cassandra if she knew that Mortius was posing as Snape. Also, he hadn't provoked her at all…he felt sorry for her; he knew that Cassandra was a very miserable girl, and all this teasing was just making matters worse. "Ron!" he snarled. "Why did you do that! I can hear her crying in the halls, can't you?"

Everyone shut their mouths, and, sure enough, they could hear sobbing. Luna got up out of her seat. Neville and Ginny followed her as they headed out into the halls to catch up with Cassandra. Suddenly, someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned around to see a pretty face with a bandaged nose; it was none other than Lisa Turpin. "Hello, Harry," she said sweetly. "No hard feelings about that punch. It happens all the time."

"Yeah," Harry said cheekily. "I bet it does."

"Can I ask you a few questions?" Lisa said in a voice like maple syrup, sugary up to the point of being disgusting and overflowing. "They concern Cassandra Snape and her…_condition._"

"Go away," Harry said. "I hardly know her."

"Well, that's weird," Lisa said, her voice getting a bit poisonous. "She sits with you and your friends practically every day now…I thought you might be getting a little _chummy_, if you catch my drift." She smiled, showing off her unnaturally white teeth and bright red lipstick.

"We _don't_ want to talk to you," Hermione snapped.

"Leave us alone, Lisa." Ron said angrily. "You're _not _wanted over here."

"Not until Harry answers my questions!" Lisa bellowed back, looming over Harry like a hungry hawk. Her bleach-blonde hair was all in Harry's face. She pulled out a notepad and said, "Oh, wait a minute…I could always bother you until something slips out…that _usually_ works. By the way, I saw you near that big maze of marble corridors last night with Luna Lovegood. In case you didn't know, she's in my House. What were you two doing?" Lisa beamed, her face practically glowing. "Have you found yourself a girlfriend, by any chance?"

"NO!" Harry shouted, shoving Lisa away from him. "Shut up!"

Lisa got back on her feet rather quickly and started hounding Harry again, to everyone's displeasure. "Someone else told me you had it in for Professor Snape. Look, I don't like him too much either, so why don't you three work together with yours truly to achieve the quick end of his tyrannical career as Potions Master?"

"In your dreams," Ron retorted. "I'd rather work with a Slytherin than you!"

Lisa guffawed at that. "Yes, judging from your recent actions, I'd have to say you really wouldn't mind working with Slytherins, Ron." She wrote something down on a notepad and then said in a very venomous voice. "I've just got one more question…how do you guys feel about the fact that there are vampires at Hogwarts?"

"Vampires are on the campus?" Harry asked sweetly, which just flared Lisa up some more. That's exactly what he wanted her to do; get pissed off and leave.

"I had no idea!" Hermione said sarcastically.

"You sit practically every day with one!" Lisa shouted shrilly. "Cassandra's a vampire, and so is Professor Ahsimal…you'd have to be some kind of moron _not_ to notice it in those two. But, there's no need to fear; Lewn, Ebonyste, and Cyanis are all three experienced Slayers. They'll take care of the infestation..."

"What the Hell are you talking about? You make it sound like vampires are pests of some kind!" Harry thundered, now looming over the Ravenclaw girl. Lisa cowered a bit and then ran off, screaming. "She's such a bitch," Harry muttered.

"We should silence her," Hermione said angrily. "She's such a horrid person, isn't she?"

"I agree with everything you just said, Hermione," said Ron. "How about we take that scarf from Professor Lewn and just choke Lisa with it? I'm sure we'd be rewarded for it." He finished his breakfast and then waited for Hermione and Harry to finish. It only took about five minutes in all, and then the bell for classes began.

Normally, Potions would have been done in the afternoon, but it was done in the morning today because all other classes had been cancelled, because some people were still grieving the death of Wolfgang Leir. It was mostly the younger girls in the school, but Madame Hooch seemed pretty shaken by that as well.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked together to their Potions class. They saw Malfoy with Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus on the other side of the hall. "Hey, look!" Malfoy said, his pointy face getting a really wide grin on it. "It's Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood!" Crabbe and Goyle guffawed a bit, and Pansy giggled. They finally just walked off to the Dungeon and left the Gryffindors behind. "Isn't it like Snape to _never_ cancel a class?"

"Malfoy needs more silencing than Lisa does," Hermione said, her face getting a bit wet with tears. "I'm really beginning to hate him with a passion."

"Don't stoop down to his level, Hermione," Ron said. "Cheer up for Harry and me, okay? This is the only class we've got today, so we can all do something fun until we have our holiday feast tonight. Rick even told me that Dumbledore's even letting us have a masquerade this year in the Great Hall! Won't that be a lot of fun?"

Hermione wiped away her tears of frustration and just gave Ron a watery smile. "Thanks," was all she said, because the group of friends had just approached the Dungeon.

"Hey, wait!" Harry said. "Before we go in, there's something I got to tell you two."

Ron and Hermione halted. "Okay, Harry," said Ron. "What do you need to tell us?"

"That _isn't_ Snape teaching Potions," he said flatly. "It's Mortis."

Hermione and Ron both turned really pale at the mentioning of that particular Death Eater. "H-how long has Mortius been keeping up t-the charade?" Hermione stuttered.

"I have no idea," Harry said. "He was in the Labyrinth last night, and he said that nobody would believe me anyway…so he showed me his disguise. I asked him where the real Snape was, and all he did was laugh. I couldn't get anything out of him because Dumbledore came to the scene. It's odd; I don't think he realizes the Snape that's teaching us is a fraud." He walked into the classroom after that to see that Mortius—still disguised as Snape—was asleep in the dragon-leather recliner. There was a puddle of saliva where his mouth was hanging open, and it was getting in his hair. Neville had a bird's eye view from his seat and couldn't help but snigger a little.

The bell rang again after Harry, Hermione, and Ron took their seats. Mortius stood up and said, "I'm just glad I've only got to put up with _one_ class today." He took the roll and then yawned. "We will be working on a potion that revitalizes dead tissue. Notes are up on the board. Copy them down—word for word—and then get to work. I'll expect you to be done in thirty minutes or less." He sat back down again, and then gave Harry a really dirty look. "Potter, I need to speak to you after class, no excuses." Harry looked behind him to see Cassandra was in the back row. She looked as if she was still crying, but was trying to hide it in front of everyone. He could also hear her coughing and gagging throughout the entire class period. She was obviously having an allergic reaction to _something_.

Like usual, Harry's potion earned him a rather low grade. Ron got a 'T' on his, but Hermione got an 'O,' like usual. As was every lesson in here, it seemed to take an eternity for the bell to ring. Harry rushed off to join Ron, Neville, and Hermione, but an ice cold hand held him back. "Remember, Potter, I needed to have a word with you," Mortius said, his lip curling up a bit. Harry took a seat and Mortius sat right next to him, after slamming and locking the door. "Do you have any questions about what I showed you last night?" he said evilly, his eyes flaring up. His face changed from Snape's to a face that Harry had never seen on a living person before. It was as if Mortius had never seen sunlight, because his skin was just as pale as Professor Ahsimal's, only sicklier. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he had some rather brutal-looking stitches on his right cheek. Just like last night, the flesh on his body had the same texture as that of a Dementor…cold, semi-slimy, and dead. Around his neck was a crucifix, for some odd reason. Harry never would have thought an evil man like this would have worn such a sacred symbol. "I'm sure you want to know _something_."

"What happened to the real Professor Snape?" Harry asked. He had his hands on his wand, just in case this got to be pretty brutal. He didn't trust Mortius, but he was sure that this man wasn't going to have him dead quite yet. His stomach lurched as Mortius let out a cold, shrill laugh.

"Oh, you really want to know about Severus? I've had him locked up in my place since the summer of 1994, if that tells you anything! I'm the person that kept pushing Sirius Black, it was I that was teaching you Occlumency..."

"But those were Snape's memories, not yours!" Harry shouted. "How could it have been you?"

"I'm a skilled Legilimens myself," Mortius said, smiling like a corpse. "I can use another person's memories when I shift into them. It's part of my greatest power." He laughed again, and took a sip of a dark liquid that was on his desk. It wasn't blood, but firewhiskey. Harry looked around to see that there were numerous crucifixes, chains of garlic, and mirrors hidden all throughout the Dungeon. He also saw a hammer and seven wooden stakes in the corner as well. "Not to mention, I'm the world's greatest Slayer, in case you didn't already know." Mortius laughed again and said, "If I were you, Potter, I wouldn't be worried just about myself…I'd be worried about that damn vampire you've been trying to befriend." Mortius smiled, showing off his bone-colored teeth. "Don't you understand? Cassandra's been living with me for a couple of years. The time is right for me to get rid of her. I can use her to my advantage at this point in time." He sighed and said, "Your days are numbered, Potter. The Dark Lord _will_ prevail over you, and I'm his loyal servant. However, I won't be the one to kill you. I've got a friend that is already doing that for me...very slowly. You haven't noticed it _yet_, but I assure you that you will soon enough."

"You still didn't answer my question!" Harry snarled. "Where's Snape?"

"I'm surprised you'd even care about him," Mortius said eerily. "He's been locked up in my place in Azkaban. I rendered him unconscious and pulled out the Laconus Curse on him. Only the Dementors knew the difference, and you know for a fact that they are on the side of the Dark Lord. Their favorite type of prey is one that betrays our Master, and Severus was one of those."

'_I can't believe this…the last time I saw Snape was right after Hermione and I had freed Sirius!'_ Harry was having a hard time dealing with this. "You're a good actor," he muttered, "but even the best actors make mistakes. Sooner or later, someone besides me is going to realize you're a fraud. Just wait until I write Mad-Eye Moody about this."

Mortius raised an eyebrow. "Are you _sure_ that would be a good idea, Potter? If you keep on threatening me, I could always threaten your friends…especially that nasty bloodsucker." He laughed again, and then said, "Well, I just wanted you to know that I will get you sooner or later…and the time of your demise is drawing very near. I'm not your friend, by any account, but I cannot bring myself to kill you. After all, you befriended my son this year."

"I did!" Harry exclaimed, horrorstruck by that nasty thought. "Who is he?"

"Marcus Cantarus," Mortius said. "My real name is Julius Cantarus, and I do believe you met my wife, Stella Piper, earlier this week? She's a magnificent woman, really. An Auror as well as a Death Eater…that makes her quite unique, doesn't it?"

"Mrs. Cantarus is a Death Eater too!" Harry said.

He couldn't have said any more, because someone started doing a complicated drum rhythm on the heavy oak doors. "Yes, what is it, Adonis?" Mortius shouted.

"Can I come in?" Harry heard Ebonyste say, "Pretty please?"

"Sure," Mortius said, shifting back into Snape. He opened the door for Harry and pointed to the hall. "You, out…Adonis, I'm that took so long. Was that drum pattern a march of some kind?"

"_What_ _did you say!"_ Marcus shouted at Harry. "You think my mum's a Death Eater and my dad's one too? You've got to be a nutter, Harry! My mum's an Auror, and my dad's the best vampire Slayer in the world…I'm just surprised _he_ isn't teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts instead of that pipsqueak Nezura. Look, I think I'd know my parents better than you do," he sounded really hurt by what Harry had told him. "Sure, I haven't seen my dad in about three years, but that's because he's been in Romania chasing after a clan of vampires known as the Von Dorians…he's _not _a DeathEater! Besides that, my mum is an Auror, and used to be partners with Nezura. How could she be a Death Eater? She'd have to turn herself in, damn it! You're just spreading a rumor like Lisa. That's as low as it gets, mate."

At that moment, Malfoy and the other Slytherins came in to see that Marcus wasn't too happy with Harry right now. "Marcus?" Malfoy said. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, are you all right?" Pansy Parkinson asked, playing with a strand of her hair. "You look like someone called you a Mudblood or something." Crabbe and Goyle even looked a bit concerned about Marcus.

Marcus pointed at Harry and said, "He thinks my mum and dad are in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All of you know better, right?" All the Slytherins nodded, and Marcus continued. "Harry thinks that my dad is _Mortius_, whoever that is."

"Mortius?" Malfoy asked curiously. "Potter, wasn't that the guy that tried to kill Nezura on the train to Hogwarts?"

"No," Harry snarled. "That was Necro. Mortius was the one that _ordered_ Necro to kill Nezura. I think he knows something about these so-called gorgonix attacks."

"You also think he's my dad," Marcus said in a hurt voice. "I'm sorry Harry, but I just think you're looking for more attention. The Daily Prophet has been focusing more on these killings than you, so now you're starved for publicity…I bet that's what it all comes down to." He stomped off toward the Slytherin tower. Malfoy, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle followed their angry friend.

"Marcus, wait up for us," Pansy said. "We're here to cheer you up!"

'_He didn't believe me_,' Harry thought miserably. '_I thought we were pretty good friends, but he didn't believe me_.' He looked about to see if he could find Ron and Hermione. There was no luck in finding them because they'd already headed back up to the Gryffindor tower, but he could see Ginny, Neville, and Luna walking together down the hall. However, they were too far away to catch up with. Harry searched around some more to see if he could find anyone he trusted within his range. He saw a silhouette approaching him, a slender man's figure with really long hair. Finally, the shadow faded away and he could see it was Ahsimal. He had a red handkerchief in one hand, and was constantly sneezing into it. The other hand had a bouquet of flowers in it. "Professor?" Harry called out. "Are you looking for someone?"

Ahsimal jumped and then laughed. "Hello Potter. You made me jump for an instant." He chuckled a bit and then winked. "I didn't know anyone was watching me." He looked about for a moment, and then asked, "Have you seen Cassandra anywhere?"

"No," Harry answered curtly. "Why? Are you looking for her?" He eyed the bouquet and couldn't help but think of what Cassandra had said at breakfast; _You could say that the Necromancy teacher and I are very…**close**._ He grimaced at the thought of a student and a teacher being a couple, but it _was_ possible. Harry noticed that Ahsimal's cheeks were turning a bit rosy pink. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really," Ahsimal admitted. "She looked like she needed a bit of cheering up, and I know how much she likes bluebells, so I thought she might enjoy getting a few flowers." He sighed. "Poor lass; she acts as though she doesn't have a friend in the world." He played around with a ring on his left index finger. It was pewter and had a big globe of obsidian in the center…the same one that he had worn every day since the Introductory Feast! Harry then realized he'd seen a ring like that before on four other people…Severus and Cassandra Snape, the handsome young man with the short black hair in the photograph Skylarke had shown him the first day he had gotten back, and Skylarke himself...even though Harry had only seen Skylarke with that ring in a photo. Harry wasn't sure if Skylarke still wore that ring under those leather gloves he always had on, but he had a pretty good feeling that he did.

"Where did you get that ring?" Harry asked, pointing to the creepy pewter one. After all, Professor Ahsimal had a ring (or two) on every single one of his ten long, narrow fingers. This one stood out only because Harry had seen it on a couple of people he really was suspicious of. Sure, he was suspicious of Ahsimal too—after all, Nezura thought Ahsimal was in league with Mortius—but something told him that although this man was indeed a vampire, he was innocent of this crime.

"You mean _this ring_, Potter?" Ahsimal said, his voice squeaked a little in surprise. "I can't tell you where or how I got it…it's a secret I'm bound to keep until I'm put to eternal rest, which isn't going to be happening anytime soon."

Harry raised an eyebrow a bit and said suspiciously, "Oh yeah? Can't tell me, Professor? Could you tell _Dumbledore_ where you got it?"

Ahsimal bit his lip and said, "No, I couldn't." When he saw the accusatory look Harry was giving him, he began to sweat. "Look, it's nothing like _that_, okay? I'm not a Death Eater, Potter. They hate vampires because they're very aloof individuals that wish to rely only upon themselves. If vampires could cooperate in groups, Voldemort—yes, I said his name—would look upon them in a different light..."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, still not completely sure if he should believe Ahsimal. '_He teaches a Dark Art, he's a vampire, and it's obvious he's hiding some really big secret_.' "Is that ring connected to the gorgonix, by any chance?"

"What is _this_ all of a sudden?" Ahsimal shouted. "Are you Dolores Umbridge? Where's your Inquisitorial Squad! Potter, do you think that _everything_ deserves to be explained to you?" He stopped and then controlled himself better. "This ring is the mark of a certain group of people, okay? I'm surprised that you could see the pewter ring. Very few people who aren't in the society can." He quickly added, "We're not your enemy, Potter, but don't count on us to fully be on your side, either. I hope you're satisfied with what I've told you, because I cannot go into further detail without betraying the secrets our select group keeps within the fellowship."

"Is Snape in it?" Harry asked, curiously.

Ahsimal didn't answer; he rushed off to give Cassandra her flowers. Harry looked behind him to see that Skylarke was walking down the hall. He was carrying a heavy bag, and was looking around every corner cautiously. '_He's suspicious of everything_…_has he always been like this?'_ "Professor Skylarke!" Harry called out. "Do you need some help with that?"

"Harry, good to see you," said Skylarke. "If you wouldn't mind holding this for me, I'd greatly appreciate it." He pulled out something that looked a lot like a smoky crystal ball. "I've just ordered this in for my office; it's a RedStar Model. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry looked at that crystal ball for the longest time. It looked nothing like the one Snitchgrass had sent him over the summer. However, there was the name of the model written on its ebony stand; _RedStar_. Harry's podium was identical, but his crystal ball just glowed most of the time, usually red; this one, on the other hand, was smoking on the inside, as if the center was a liquid. "That's a _RedStar_ crystal ball, Professor?" he asked, confused.

"Why, yes it is. RedStars don't come cheap and are very hard to come by these days," Skylarke said. "I thought that I might be able to gather up a few clues if I positioned myself with a RedStar…the last time I used one, I led to the capture of Margaret Avery; have you heard of her?"

"No."

"She and her husband were Death Eaters. They killed a man and his three children with the Death Curse. Everyone wanted to find her, but it didn't occur to anyone to use a crystal ball." Skylarke's face was full of concern when he saw how baffled Harry looked. "Is something wrong?"

"Professor Snitch grass..."

"You can call Professor Snitchgrass '_Lucinda_' if you wish, because she's your Hawkbanes."

"Oh, okay, Professor," Harry said. "Lucinda gave me a RedStar this summer, and it doesn't look _anything_ like the crystal ball you purchased."

"Is that so?" Skylarke looked more confused than Harry at this point. "Look, Harry…did Lucinda tell you who the crystal artist was in that letter?"

"Yes, she did," Harry said. "She said that Professor Nezura made it, and that she purchased it at her store, **Nezura's Curiosity**. She said that it left quite an empty space in her wallet, too."

"Well, how about after the festivities tonight, you meet me outside my office and bring that crystal ball?" Skylarke now looked absolutely puzzled. "That's a very odd story you concocted. As far as I know, Mitzi never was a crystal artist. I didn't think she sold them at her store; she _hates_ crystal balls…"

Ahsimal returned from down the shady corridor. He ran straight into Skylarke; both of the teachers fell to the ground. "I got the toilet paper we'll need for tonight, Morty. Did you bring the eggs and the dung bombs like you promised?"

Skylarke laughed. "Of course I did!" He turned to Harry and said, "Can I trust you to keep this a secret? Professor Ahsimal and I are going to pay our respects to Professor Sprout and find out what she does once she sees the greenhouses have been defiled with toilet paper, eggs, dung bombs, and other nasty surprises."

"There was no treat last year," Ahsimal complained, "so I dare say Spout deserves a trick from me. Professor Skylarke is just being a good Samaritan by helping me do my dirty deeds!" He laughed; it was rather musical and feminine. "I love Halloween very much, yes I do." Ahsimal picked up a box of candies that Skylarke had bought and asked, "Are these the ones you selected for Minerva?" When Skylarke beamed and nodded, Ahsimal said, "I thought so. She'll never suspect that they'll turn her hair green. Where in the name of Merlin did you get all of these wonderful gag gifts?"

Skylarke stopped sniggering long enough to say, "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. Why do you ask, Darius?" Harry couldn't help but laugh as he heard Skylarke say that. These were two of his strictest and most serious teachers, and here they were, behaving like a couple of tricksters that were closer to Harry's own age. Skylarke started walking off with Ahsimal, but then said, "Harry, don't forget what I said; I'll meet you outside my office around a quarter after one in the morning."

"Okay," Harry said. "There's something I need to tell you when we meet there."

"Have fun at the masquerade tonight, Harry," Ahsimal said. "I'm supposed to be chaperoning, but I'd rather be up to no good with Professor Skylarke. Therefore, I got Professor Snape to take my spot." The albino shrugged his shoulders. "You know, he's been acting a little weird lately. Do you reckon he's got a fever?"

"I'd have no idea," Skylarke said. "Look, Darius, let's go deliver our _gifts_. So, where are we off to first? Ah, I know…how about we pay Hagrid a visit? He hardly ever gets presents anymore."

"You better not do anything mean to Hagrid," Harry said suspiciously. "Hagrid's my friend."

"Oh, trust us for once!" Ahsimal crowed. "Skylarke and I wouldn't _dream_ of causing harm to Hagrid. He never bothered us, but I'm sure he wouldn't object to a little present." He pulled something out of the bag that Skylarke was carrying and laughed. "Do you know what this is?"

"No."

"Well, Potter," Ahsimal said. "It's a psychic whoopee cushion. If someone you don't like is intruding on your premises and you want them to leave, the whoopee cushion will understand and make the most realistic bodily function sounds on the market, smell and all. _It's how to humiliate someone that you really hate_, according to what the box says." He chuckled a bit and said, "You tell me, Harry…do you think Hagrid would object if we gave him this as a Halloween present?" When Harry shook his head, Ahsimal's smile spread across his entire face. "I thought so." He elbowed Skylarke and said, "Come along, Morty. We've got havoc to wreak!" Skylarke and Ahsimal both raised their wands and shouted out a clothes-changing spell. _"Garbashiftus!"_ With those words, their teachers' robes transformed into a couple of costumes. Ahsimal was Dracula, and Skylarke looked like the Phantom of the Opera. The two teachers pointed at each other and cracked up. "Morty, you look ridiculous!" Ahsimal shouted. "It looks like we used the toilet paper on your face instead of Sprout's greenhouses and spray-painted it to make it look like a mask."

"What are you talking about?" Skylarke said. "This _is _a mask. I'm the bloody Phantom of the Opera! By the way, you look even stupider than me. What vampire ever dressed like _that_?"

"The one in the Dracula movies," Darius retorted. "I think I look sexy like this, don't you?"

"You're pathetic, Darius!" Skylarke shouted back. He turned toward Harry. "Hey, Harry, would you like to try on a costume for the party tonight or are you going to wait until evening?"

"I think I'll wait," Harry said. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Oh," Ahsimal said. "Okay, then; go be a party pooper. We'll see you later." With that the Necromancy and Curses & Rootwork teachers wandered around the campus until they found Hagrid. "Rubeus, buddy!" Harry heard Ahsimal say. "Happy Halloween; Morty and I got you a present to put you into the spirit of the holiday! Do you like whoopee cushions?"

Harry continued down the halls, and ran into Cassandra. In her hands was the bouquet of flowers Ahsimal had sent her. She looked like she was a bit happier right now. "Hello," she said. "I know you didn't say anything cruel to me this morning, so I apologize for my melodramatics. It was very _unlike_ me." There was a watery smile on her face and she wasn't crying anymore.

"Cassandra…" Harry felt like his mouth was full of cotton. He didn't know how he was going to say this, so he casually began, "I'm really sorry about that. Are you feeling any better?"

Cassandra nodded. "Yes, I am." Her eyes narrowed. "That's not what's on your mind, is it?" She sighed and then her face got a very accusatory look on it. "Well, I'm waiting for you to ask me what you _really_ have on your mind." The green fire was back in her eyes. She looked as if she would never trust anyone with that ice cold glare. She had the same fear in her face as cornered prey…someone who was talking to Death itself.

"Look, it's nothing like _that_," Harry said. "You might not believe me when I tell you …"

Cassandra's eyebrows were raised. "What are you talking about?" She started backing up a bit, and then blurted, "You mean you saw it too!"

_What is **she** talking about?_ "I think you lost me," Harry said. "Did I see _what_?"

"Ebonyste's eyes; they _glow_. Besides that, I think I've got a lead on Mortis..."

"How do you know about Mortius?" Harry blurted.

Cassandra smiled lightly and said, "_Vangelico Macedalion_, remember?" She rolled her eyes and did a bit of the dramatic performance she had done in Lewn's class in Turret Two a few weeks ago. It was a remarkably good impression, and Harry couldn't help but snigger a bit.

"Oh, right…do you know who he's pretending to be?"

"I've narrowed it down to two people," Cassandra's mouth curled up into a sinister smile. "I think he's either Cyanis or Parenein, but there's something fishy about Ebonyste, too. I was wondering if you've noticed that his eyes glow in the dark and get really bright when he has an angry moment, or am I just being paranoid?"

Harry had heard someone else mention that weird phenomena before…Luna had said something about it being easy to follow Ebonyste down a dark corridor because his eyes lit up. There were too many coincidences to make it just that…something was going on with Ebonyste that needed an explanation. Harry knew that Ebonyste was a former Death Eater, could be as unpredictable as the weather, and was probably the closest ally Mortius had outside of the fellowship. "Well, I don't think you're being _paranoid_, but I think I've seen his eyes glow before too."

"Well, do you know who Mortius is?" Cassandra asked. "Something is telling me that you know and just haven't told me..."

"Cassandra!" a voice said coldly. "I need you in here…_now_. Stop talking to Potter."

"But..."

"I said _now_!" Harry looked up to see Mortius was giving Cassandra a very angry glare. "What would your parents say if they saw you talking to a Gryffindor?"

"Sorry, Severus," Cassandra said gloomily as she lowered her head.

"And get rid of those tacky flowers. Where did you get them, anyway?"

"Well, Darius..."

"Don't accept love gifts from men that are probably old enough to be your father…has it ever occurred to you that Professor Ahsimal might be some kind of pervert?"

'_She doesn't know_,' Harry thought sickeningly. "Cassandra, I'll see you at the party tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Cassandra said as she walked off. Mortius snatched the bouquet from her and threw it into the trash.

Harry walked down the halls for a while until he finally saw Ron and Hermione heading toward the library. They had company; Neville, Ginny, Luna, and a girl with curly cedar-colored hair. "Harry, I'm glad we found you!" Hermione said. She put her hand on the other girl's shoulder. "Remember Isis Acheron? She's here about the DA, and I think she's interested in joining if we start it back up."

Isis said, "Hello everyone." She looked about and pulled out a stick of Evermint gum. She stuck it in her mouth and started chewing wildly. Her nails were gnawed down to the fingertip and the eggplant purple polish was peeling off where she'd constantly been biting.

Luna said, "Isis, strange name."

Isis said, still chewing, "It's not my fault that I got stuck with some really weird Egyptian name. Go blame my dad." She pulled out a book called How to Care for Your Griffin by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, and just kept walking, not watching where she was going.

"Careful, Isis…" Ginny said. "You're about to run into something!"

Isis paid no heed and at that moment her pretty face collided with the library door. "Ow…" she muttered, holding a hand up to her forehead. She then walked off and said nothing else, except, "I'll see all of you at the masquerade later."

Luna, Hermione, and Ginny walked off toward the library to do a little research. "Harry, I'll see you this evening in the Great Hall, okay?" With that, the three girls walked off to go talk to Madame Pince.

Harry, Ron, and Neville just cruised down the halls for a while, trying to find something interesting to do. They passed the spot where Harry had seen Mortius throw Cassandra's bouquet into a wastebasket, and then he noticed something black on the floor…the leather-bound book Cassandra was always writing in. Out of sheer curiosity, Harry opened it, expecting to find a diary. However, instead, it was a handwritten book that was obviously incomplete. It seemed Cassandra had written down practically everything that would seem interesting to someone else. There _was_ indeed a diary in here, but that was far from being the only thing. There was an encyclopedia that had painfully long descriptions about virtually everything concerning the Dark Arts. '_So much information for one little book,'_ Harry thought as he opened it up to the back.

Ron and Neville peered over and started looking in the book's index as well. "Oh, wow," Ron said. "I didn't know there really _was_ a curse that turns people into sweaty gym socks; Luna wasn't pulling my leg!"

"There's a section on the Lestranges," Neville said. "I saw that in the 'L' index."

Ron scanned the book a bit more and then said, "She's even got a section on the different victims of different groups…this covers everything!" He looked to see some of the numbers of the pages. They were ridiculously long, and the last entry was labeled _Zebulon Zardoz, page 6001_. "That's impossible; this book looks like it only holds a hundred pages, at the most…how could it have six thousand?"

"Six thousand and _one_," Neville corrected. "It's obviously gotten a depth spell put on it to make it fit on bookshelves better and look like it carries less than it actually does. What I don't get is why anyone would want to do that."

"Well, it would make it easier for Cassandra to put something small in her bookbag, wouldn't it?"

Harry kept reading, and then he noticed that there was a section on _pages 3631-3633 _about _James and Lily Potter_. This sparked his curiosity. All of a sudden, some dark, spidery writing appeared at the bottom of the index pages. It read,

**_If you are planning on going to a specific page, the best way to do so with this book is to tap the pages with your wand, use the spell Athenis Numaris, and then state the topic(s) you wish to view. _**

"Well, _that_ helps," Harry muttered. He pulled out his wand and made it touch with the book's pages. _"Athenis Numaris, James and Lily Potter_!_"_ With that incantation, the pages flew at a very alarming rate until they landed on the three-page account of the works and deaths of Harry's parents. Harry started reading,

James and Lily Potter, Order of the Phoenix (see **Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, the Marauders, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, **etc. in my Index), opposed the tyranny of "**Lord Voldemort** (see **Tom Marvolo Riddle**, **Heir of Salazar Slytherin**, **Death Eaters**, and **He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named**). In these times of darkness, numerous people who stood in the way of the current Dark Lord (see **Alice and Frank Longbottom, Michelle and Audrey Tawny, Mortimer** **Skylarke**, etc. in my notes) ended up either dead, mutilated, or driven mad…sometimes a combination of two of these three afore mentioned.

Always against the Dark Arts, James and his wife joined, along with a few others, **Albus Dumbledore**—

Suddenly, a small parchment notepad fell out of Cassandra's book. On the front was a seven-point star with the phases of the moon in a circular formation around it. In the center of the star were two serpents, both of the tails in the other's mouth. A rather fancy initial was put on it, but only one letter…a rather fancy "**N**" in glowing red ink. Underneath it were the initials **M. E. S…**.it was something that belonged to Skylarke, there was no doubt about it.

Harry opened it, and there were some notes that Skylarke had undoubtedly taken…

'Severus screwed my life up beyond repair. The raid was a mess, and they left nobody alive, not even my parents. I saw the headstones with my own eyes; even my own. Something has happened worse than Death…I don't know how to describe it. My fiancée is gone, I've lost numerous friends, nobody trusts me anymore, and Nemesarium seems to be falling apart. I guess the Entropy Theory plays into everything, even friendships that were supposed to last for eternity. If I could go back and fix everything, maybe I could have saved some people from the Destruction. I'm being selfish again; I need to stop this nonsense before I get hurt like this for a second time. History does, indeed , repeat itself…that is a truth even I cannot argue with**.'**

Harry bit his lip…_was Skylarke a Death Eater after all?_ He put the notepad in his bookbag and decided to read the rest of it (and as much as he could from the book before Cassandra got suspicious) whenever he got the time. Then he remembered that he would be meeting Skylarke after the masquerade that night…he could just ask the man in person, couldn't he? Maybe he would even be bold enough to ask about Nemesarium, whatever that was.

After reading for quite a while, Harry decided what he could do for a costume for the masquerade. He pulled out some fishnet, a white sheet, and asked Seamus if he could borrow his sandals. "Sure, Harry," Seamus said, finishing up his knight costume. "As long as you return them later, I don't have a problem."

Harry put the costume together really easily, and got the sheet to go around him as a toga. He slung the fishnet over one of his shoulders, and then found some material that could pass as a trident. It was a pretty easy outfit, but it would look interesting enough for that night. He stopped and gazed at himself in the mirror. He was going as the Greek god of the sea, Poseidon. Ron came out dressed like a Quidditch player for the Chudley Cannons. "I wonder what Hermione's going to do," Harry said. '_This is going to be interesting_,' he thought.

Suddenly, Ginny and Hermione came out of the Gryffindor girls' dormitories, dressed in a fancy-looking dress and a cat costume. "Where'd you get that, Ginny?" Ron asked. "You don't own _anything_ that looks like that!"

"It's a spell that Hermione looked up," Ginny said, tapping her shoulder with her wand. "I think it was called '_Garbashiftus_,' or something like that." She smiled and said, "I'm going as Juliet, okay? Ron, you better not ruin this for me."

"Don't worry," Ron said. "I wasn't going to. If you were _Percy_, things would be quite different." Ginny and Ron both stifled some snickers from that last comment.

"What are you dressed up as, Harry?" Ginny asked.

Harry just shrugged and pulled out his trident. "I'm Poseidon. Can't you tell?" Hermione gave him a thumbs-up, and Ginny smiled at that comment. "I had to think of something quick."

"Well, that was very creative," Hermione said. "I had to wrack my brain for an idea, and then Crookshanks jumped up on my lap. Therefore, I thought a cat would be cute, fun, and rather original." She beamed, proud of her bright idea, and then said to Ron, "Are you going to the masquerade as a hobbit that supports the Chudley Cannons?" Ron rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Look, Ron, I was just teasing you a little…hey, has anyone seen Neville anywhere?" At that moment, Neville came down from the boys dormitories. He wasn't wearing a costume. "Neville, are you even going?"

"Of course I am," said Neville. "I just can't think of anything good."

Everyone tried to help Neville out, but nobody else could think of anything that wasn't really corny. At that moment, Professor Nezura walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, dressed up as a ninja, and sat down on the sofa by the fireplace. "There's quite a crowd waiting to get in there," she said. "I thought I could have a little rest before the party…is it okay with you guys to have a teacher in here?"

"Sure, no problem," Ron said, taking a closer look at Nezura's costume. "What are you dressed up as a ninja for, anyway?"

"I've got a black belt in karate, and I've mastered a couple of other martial arts, so I thought this would suit me," she said sweetly. She took a sip from the drink she'd brought in with her. When Harry got a closer look, he could see it was a crystal goblet filled to the brim with white wine. "You should see Ebonyste; he looks ridiculous in that tie-dyed thing he's wearing."

"Professor Nezura, could I just go in there without a costume?" Neville asked.

Nezura nodded. "Yeah, sure. You can go as you are; the costume party bit just spiced things up a little to make it more interesting." She beamed. "I'm bringing a good friend of mine over for the party. I think all of you Sixth and Seventh Years might have caught a glimpse or two of her in your First Year at Hogwarts. You'll be quite familiar with her last name at least, that I'm sure of."

"Who is it, Professor?" Neville asked, curiously.

"I'll have you all acquainted with my friend later on tonight. It's a secret until I introduce you to her personally. Wake me up in about an hour," was all Nezura said. She then pulled out a water dropper filled with some nasty-looking green powder the color of dead grass. She put three drops of it into the wine, which made it glow a really eerie pale blue for a couple of seconds. Nezura then took a big gulp of her drink, and she fell asleep immediately.

Harry looked at the clock; the party began in half an hour. "Er…does anyone want to walk around until the masquerade starts? I'm sure we'll find some people in the hall."

Everyone agreed that Harry's idea was a good one, and therefore they walked in a group, trying to find some of their other friends. They found Luna talking to a couple of First Years, a boy and a girl that were obviously twins. She was dressed up in a lot of faded and outdated garments, and she had chalky powder on her skin, as well as black eyeshadow on her eyelids and cheeks. "Oh, hello," she said to Harry and the others. "Good to see you."

The boy and the girl came forward, dressed up as what appeared to be a couple of rock stars. "Hi," the boy said. "I'm Nicholas Butler."

The girl smiled, scratching a bit at the face paint she'd put on earlier and slightly smearing it. "I'm Emily, Nicholas's twin sister. Nice to meet you."

Luna laughed. "I made friends with Nicholas and Emily after they got sorted into Ravenclaw. They're very nice, and we've got a lot in common."

Nicholas held up a copy of the Quibbler. "Emmy and I read the Quibbler monthly, and when I heard that Luna's dad owned the paper, I was very impressed. I didn't know anyone else besides Emmy and me that believed in squonks. Luna's the coolest, isn't she?" Emily nodded, and it was clear the twins were expecting everyone to agree with them.

"Nicky," Emily said, elbowing her brother. "We've got to meet Professor Flitwick in the Ravenclaw Common Room right now." She grabbed Nicholas's left wrist and rushed off. "Bye!"

"They're both really sweet," Luna said. "I didn't know I had fans."

"_Yeah_…" Ginny said with a hint of sarcasm. "Say, Luna, what are you supposed to be?"

"A banshee," Luna said. "And what are you supposed to be, Ginny? A princess?"

"Juliet," Ginny said. "I talked my new boyfriend into going as Romeo."

"I'm sure he'll love you for it," Neville said sarcastically.

"Don't you have a costume?" Luna asked Neville.

"I couldn't think of anything," Neville admitted.

After meeting up with Luna, the group saw Josh, Atticus, and Celia walking—and wheeling—down a corridor together, dressed up in their costumes. Celia was dressed as an angel, and even had a little halo she'd added magically that constantly glowed. Josh was dressed like a really handsome nobleman, and he was carrying a mask made of metal in his left hand. Atticus was dressed all in black, and had a rather sinister make-up job on his face, as well as some skeletal-looking gloves on his hands. He carried a heavily-decorated oar. Somewhat curious to find out if they were still cross with him, Harry called out, "Hey!"

"Why, hello everyone!" Celia said, rushing over there. Josh and Atticus followed her.

Hermione said politely, "I like your costumes."

Josh smiled. "Thanks, Hermione. Your cat costume's pretty cute too." He then glared at Harry as he pulled his chestnut brown hair out of his face. He still had those blonde highlights in it. His hazel eyes were fiery with anger and distrust. "I'm going as the Man in the Iron Mask."

"I'm going to the party as the ill-tempered boatman of the River Styx," Atticus said. "You know, Charon, the guide of the Dead? Professor Ahsimal gave me the idea in Necromancy a couple of weeks ago."

"Why haven't you guys been talking to us?" Celia asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Why haven't _we_ been talking to _you_ _guys_? You've been the ones dodging us!" said Harry.

"I was enjoying the peace and quiet," Josh said hotly. "_I_ have been staying away from you, and I've tried convincing Celia and Atticus to follow suit. Are you really so _thick_, Harry, as to wonder why we've been giving you the silent treatment and been avoiding you like the plague? It was for Celia's safety, and I wanted to prevent myself from acting on impulse. If I had done so, you'd be in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey right about now." He leered at Harry angrily. "I don't trust you."

"Josh is a bit overprotective," Celia admitted. "He tends to overanalyze people's actions."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron said. "Could someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah, fill us in," Luna said. "Did one of you see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

"Er…_no_," Josh said, sticking his nose up at Luna. "It's up to Celia if she wants to tell you or not what happened."

Luna said dreamily, "You need to pluck those nose hairs. They're sticking out."

Atticus rolled his eyes. "Josh, you're making it sound as if we were hiding that criminal Aurelius Fallowin under Celia's bed or something!" He gave a short laugh, and then said quickly, "We're _not_ doing that, by the way, nor would we _ever_. Fallowin killed my mum and numerous other people, and that's not all he was arrested for. He was one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's right hand men, and the rumors go that so was Professor..."

"Snape?" Everyone blurted the same name at the same time, but Neville was loudest.

"No," Atticus said. "Not Snape…_Ahsimal_. Anyway, about Aurelius…he, Snape, Ahsimal, and a few other Death Eaters killed the Skylarke family, and I think the only one who survived was Professor Skylarke. After all, Snape, Fallowin, and Skylarke had been pretty good friends when they were in school. They must have argued about something. Harry, those murders happened around the same time as the murders of your parents. Like I was saying, Aurelius Fallowin wasn't just arrested for murder…he had also stolen something very important from the Department of Relics..."

"Albert Silverman was in there!" Celia said. "I also remember hearing what Aurelius Fallowin stole…it was about a pint of water from the Fountain of Youth. Sure, Professor Lewn found it when she just finished her Seventh Year ages ago, and she has full access to it, but it's kept inside the Department of Relics for safe-keeping."

"Where did you hear _that_?" Luna asked, interested. After all, most people doubted the existence of a fountain that could make you eternally young and beautiful.

Celia said, "I heard it from Josh."

Josh nodded and sneered at Luna. "Professor Lewn is my sponsor for the Hawkbane program. Someone brought up the topic of Aurelius Fallowin during one of our Saturday sessions..."

"Hey, I remember that!" Ron said, cutting the Hufflepuff off. "It was Isis that brought him up, and I remember that we all blanched when she said his name. To tell the truth, Aurelius Fallowin still gives me the shivers..."

"Oh, I forgot; you, Isis, and Pansy have Lewn as your Hawkbane too," Josh blurted to get even with Ron. "Can we get off this topic? That man gives me the creeps."

"After one question," said Ginny. "Is Aurelius Fallowin related to _Rick_ Fallowin?"

"Rick's his nephew," Atticus answered. "Aurelius and Licinius Fallowin are identical twin brothers. Licinius, Rick's dad, works in the Department of Magical Abuse, or something that has a similar name…he deals with busted wands, nasty magical pranks, and the like. As far as I know, he's a very good man."

"My dad knows Mr. Fallowin," Ron said. "We've had him over before for dinner, I think. He seemed pretty nice when I met him."

"We _weren't_ talking about the Fallowins," Hermione said. "We were talking about something else, weren't we?"

"Oh, right," said Celia. "I've got something I could tell all of you…but you all better promise me that you won't go spreading this around!"

"I promise," said everybody.

"Okay, remember when I said in Professor Furrier's class that I'm an Animagus? Well, I turn into a white wolf, and on Thursday nights, I go out to the Quidditch field to run laps. Josh or Atticus, sometimes both, will accompany me to keep a lookout and see if anyone's coming." Everyone just stared at Celia, amazed that their friend could do such complex magic at her age. Furrier had said that Animagery was tough stuff, and very few people would actually be able to achieve that rare talent. Celia smiled. "Well, now that it's out in the open, I don't think Josh should be so wary of you guys. I trust you."

"Same here," Atticus said, hitting a spider on the ground with the end of his oar. "Got 'im."

Josh sighed and said, "The only one I don't trust is Harry because he spied on us."

"Give that a rest already!" Celia snapped. "Why are you protective of me all of a sudden?"

"Since you're my girlfriend, I want to protect you the best..."

"What are you talking about!" Celia said. "I am _not_ your girlfriend! How many times do I have to tell you that we're _just friends_ for it to sink into your brain?"

Josh didn't look too thrilled with hearing this news again. "But, Celia, I thought..."

"You thought _wrong_," Celia said flatly. She then turned to Ron and said, "Hey, you like the Chudley Cannons too?"

Ron and Celia started talking about their favorite Quidditch team, and everyone else, even Josh, decided to walk down the Slytherin corridors for a while. Perhaps they would run into Rick, Marcus, or Cassandra, and be able to go to the Great Hall in a very large number. After all, they still had ten minutes before the party even began. "Harry, I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass," Josh said. "If Celia trusts you, then I guess you're okay." He held out his hand. "So what do you say? No hard feelings?"

Harry shook Josh's hand and said, "All right; no hard feelings." He somewhat understood why Josh was so protective of his best friend, but he was still a bit mad at Josh for being such a prick. '_Why didn't he believe me when I said I'd tell nobody?'_ Harry and the others finally made it to the corridor that lead to the Slytherin Common Room. As they kept going down the hall, the more Harry got the feeling someone was behind him. Suddenly, somebody tapped him on the shoulder. Harry turned around, a bit surprised, and realized it was no one but Malfoy. He was dressed all in black, and he had a gigantic crucifix around his neck, as well as a chain of garlic.

"Hello, Potter," he said in his sneering voice. "What a crappy costume. Who are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"Poseidon," Harry said. "What are _you_ dressed up as? You look really stupid."

"Marcus and I both dressed up as Slayers," Malfoy snarled. "I'm sure that I'll scare a _certain someone_ at the party…what do you think?" The smile on his face was rather unappealing. At that moment, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy came and followed their ringleader. "Hey, have any of you seen Rick anywhere? I can't seem to find him." The Slytherin group all shrugged and walked off after hurling a few insults at their adversaries.

Harry and his friends kept walking, and saw very close to the Slytherin Tower entrance a couple of female silhouettes. "Hey, over here!" one of the shadowy figures said. Harry recognized the voice immediately.

"Cassandra, is that you?"

"Damn right it's me, Harry," said Cassandra. She was dressed in a black velvet dress, and had a few glittery, silvery scales put on her face in some places. In her eyes were some yellow, cats' eye contacts, and her nails were elongated and painted black. Obviously, she was a succubus. Next to her was another girl that was carrying a long sword with her medieval-style costume. "I want to introduce all of you to my best friend, Rhianna Apathy."

"I thought you said that you were really scared to make friends and that you hadn't had any since that Christopher fellow died when you were ten."

"I don't recollect ever saying those words in that exact order, Harry. I _said_ that I try my best not to make _new_ friends," Cassandra retorted. "Rhianna and Christopher have been my closest friends since I was really little…longer than I've been a vampire."

"Thirteen years, if you want to be specific," Rhianna said flatly. She then turned toward Harry and said, "Cassandra's told me quite a bit about her misadventures with all of you this year. I can tell you now that the days of that Hawkbane program are few; I'll be surprised if it goes on past Christmastime. Well, Cassandra's introduced me to you…I'm afraid the only faces I really recognize out of this crowd are Ron Weasley from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and Harry Potter and Atticus Shadow IX for obvious celebrity reasons." Rhianna then saw Celia and sighed. "Well, well…if it isn't Celia Wells, granddaughter of Albus Dumbledore himself! I didn't see you there for a minute."

"Hello, Rhianna," Celia said in a friendly tone.

Rhianna sighed and then said, "Okay, I know who _you_ are too, but who are these other people?"

"Well, this girl over here is Hermione Granger, my academic rival," Cassandra said. "If it's for educational purposes, the two of us compete in everything and try to outdo each other. You know, kind of like us?"

"Oh, I see," Rhianna said, holding her hand out for Hermione to shake. "Er…nice to meet you, Hermione."

"This is Neville Longbottom. He might not be the most powerful currently amongst us, but he's a loyal friend and has a very strong sense of determination. I'm sure we can all expect quite a lot from Neville one of these days. I know that _I've_ got faith in him," Cassandra said. Neville shook hands with Rhianna and turned a bit pink in the cheeks after he put together everything Cassandra had just said…especially the last words. "This is Ginny Weasley..."

"I know Ginny too," Rhianna said smoothly. "You did a good job as Seeker last year."

"Thank you," said Ginny.

Cassandra then introduced Rhianna to Luna. "This is Luna Lovegood. Her father owns the Quibbler."

"Is that so?" Rhianna said, putting her sword in its sheath. "That's pretty neat…I like reading the Quibbler in the morning. Cassandra and I will sit in the Slytherin Common Room and take a look at some of the quizzes your dad puts in there. I really liked your Azkaban Bingo especially. Well, Luna, it's nice to meet you too."

Josh didn't let Cassandra introduce him; he did it himself. He walked up to Rhianna and brushed his highlighted hair out of his face with his fingers. "Hello," he said smoothly.

"Er…hi?" Rhianna said, a bit confused at the odd behavior of the Seventh Year Hufflepuff.

"My name's Josh Goldman," said Josh, smiling. He was showing off, it was obvious.

"Rhianna Apathy," said Rhianna. "How do you do?" she said this last part very flatly. It was clear she wanted Josh to go away and leave her alone.

"I'm doing great; thanks for asking!" said Josh. "Guess what? I'm part of the Hawkbane program, so that means not only am I sexy, but I'm smart too!"

"Yeah, whatever…" Rhianna said, clearly not interested in the Australian. "Pansy Parkinson dropped out of Hawkbane the other day…I'm filling in her spot because I was an alternate for the program anyway. You know it's not going to last, though."

"If it doesn't make it to next year, I won't really give a damn," Josh said. "Celia, Atticus, and I will be graduating this June. It just makes things better that we're in Hawkbane…more Universities will take a look at us."

"You're so _charming_," Rhianna spat sarcastically. She was fingering the handle of her sword. She turned toward her friend and said, "We should start walking toward the Great Hall, Cassandra. I think the party's already started."

Cassandra nodded in agreement. "Let me check my watch…oh, yes! The masquerade began two minutes ago; we'll have _plenty_ of time to get there and still wreak a little havoc." She turned toward her other friends and said, "Well, I guess we'll see you there." Harry then noticed what it was that Cassandra was carrying in her hands as she walked off…a bouquet of bluebells. They were identical to the bouquet that Ahsimal had sent her and Mortius had thrown in the trash. '_Someone came by there and got them out_,' Harry remembered. '_When I went back there, the flowers were gone, but the black book was in their place_.'

After the walk to the Great Hall, everyone looked at the enchanted ceiling and gasped at the sheer beauty of the scene. Sure, Halloween was _always_ a spectacular time of the year at Hogwarts, but this scene for 1996 was absolutely captivating. Even the teachers had gotten into the spirit, and the students couldn't help but laugh at some of the ideas other people had gotten for the party.

Malfoy and his friends were all dressed as Slayers, to Cassandra's disapproval. "Come on, Rhianna," Harry heard her say. "Let's go find Darius and Skylarke…I'm sure they're up to something that we can _help out_ with." The two girls looked behind their shoulders, and then Rhianna pulled out her sword. There was a bit of mischievous laughter coming from the two of them, but it was clear that they wanted to have a good time at the party.

Seamus, Dean, and a few other Gryffindors had gone as King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, except they were missing King Arthur. Neville found himself an idea and dressed up as a king to complete the picture. Harry's friends scattered all over the place to talk to other people, even Ron and Hermione. There was no escape for Harry; he was stuck by himself for the moment.

Nezura was in a corner (still dressed like a ninja) talking to a rather timid-looking woman with mousy-brown hair and grayish green eyes. She had on navy blue robes with gold astrological patterns on them. She had a pendant that looked like a gold rose around her neck, as well as a rather interesting-looking scarf that didn't compliment her outfit at all...it was a very bright vermilion. "Constanza, I dragged you all the way from Transylvania so you could see Hogwarts again after half a decade. Doesn't this bring back some good memories, my friend?"

The timid woman, obviously Constanza, was putting on a pair of sun-shaped earrings as she said shakily, "I want to get out before someone recognizes..."

"Harry!" Nezura squealed in delight as she dragged him over toward herself and her cowering friend. "This is the friend I was telling you about in the Common Room earlier!" She introduced the two to each other. "Constanza, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Constanza Quirrell. You had her husband for Defense Against the Dark Arts five years ago."

Harry looked at Mrs. Quirrell for a moment and couldn't help but think that she was giving him a glare of hatred beyond comparison. Despite how furious she looked, she seemed easily intimidated and struck Harry as someone who was relatively harmless. "Yeah, I'd have to be _mental_ to forget that year," Harry said. "Your husband tried to kill me." Mrs. Quirrell didn't seem to be listening to Harry. She was frantically looking about the Great Hall, her eyes darting from place-to-place at a very rapid speed. "Besides that, he had Voldemort on the back of his head." Mrs. Quirrell nearly choked on her drink when Harry said _Voldemort._

"Harry!" Nezura growled. "You scared my friend!"

"No, he didn't," said Mrs. Quirrell, fidgeting pretty badly by this point. Harry couldn't help but notice how _chewed_ her fingernails looked. "I was expecting him to say something like that...sheer fantasy." She then just stared at Harry for the longest time…it made him feel very uncomfortable. "Such power in someone so young…what a pity it would be to lose that existence."

"What the Hell are you talking about, Stanzi?" Nezura said. "I'll leave you two to talk…I'm going to get something to drink." The little teacher hopped off toward the punchbowl. "I'll be right back!"

"But, Professor—'' Harry stopped in mid-sentence, and just decided to try to strike up a conversation with Nezura's livid friend. "Er…Mrs. Quirrell, what is your career, exactly?"

"Manipulator," the frail woman said curtly. "It allows me to hypnotize, warp atmospheres to a person's benefit, design secret passages in people's manors, and the like. The best part about the job is that you can Manipulate _people_ if you're talented…and if you aura is strong enough." She didn't seem quite so helpless anymore, and something about her had changed. Her voice had gotten a bit deeper and raspier; it almost sounded masculine. Harry then looked to see that Mrs. Quirrell's hair had turned to a light red color and that her eyes were now a really dark blue.

"Are you a Metamorphmagus?" Harry asked, curiously.

"No," Mrs. Quirrell said. "I'm not."

"But," Harry began. "But, your hair and eyes changed color and you got _taller_."

Mrs. Quirrell just looked at Harry as if he had gone insane. "Are you sure?" After Harry nodded, she turned back to her mousy-brunette, grayish-green-eyed self, if not a bit paler. "I…I don't remember…what was the last thing I said? I think I blacked out."

_**Okay**,_ Harry thought. This woman wasn't just a little weird…she's **very** weird. Blackouts! What was wrong with her? "You told me that you were a Manipulator."

"Did I?" she said, looking a bit confused. "Well, I used to be one…I'm not a Manipulator anymore…I'll be your new Manipulations teacher in a couple of days." She then let out a long and heavy sigh. "It's a real pity about that Wolfe Leir fellow."

"Yeah," Harry said, agreeing. "He was a great guy, and I'm sure the whole school is still upset that he's gone."

"Just imagine…_suicide at Hogwarts_!"

"It _wasn't_ suicide that killed him!" Harry snapped at Mrs. Quirrell. "He was _strangled_…didn't you go to the funeral? Do you even _read_ the Daily Prophet?"

"No, I don't read that paper," Mrs. Quirrell said. "I read the Quibbler and the Evening Oracle whenever I get the chance, but that's it. I stopped reading the Daily Prophet the summer of 1992…there were quite a lot of trashy rumors about my husband out there at that point, stuff I _knew _could only be lies." She pointed a shaky finger at Harry and scowled. She didn't look timid anymore _at all_…she looked absolutely _irate_ by this point. Her innocent-looking face had turned a deep scarlet. "_You_ were the one feeding people—like that terrible Skeeter woman—all that gossip!"

"_All that gossip_, eh!" Harry thundered, getting pretty angry with Mrs. Quirrell. He stood up (it was clear that he was taller than her). "Your husband had Voldemort on the back of his head and he tried to kill me!"

"Don't you think I heard you the first time you said that?" Mrs. Quirrell snapped. Her voice was dark, velvety, and masculine at this point. Her hair had turned black and her eyes a very vibrant scarlet. "Can you _prove_ to me that he tried to kill you?"

"Go ask Dumbledore about it…" Harry said, a little creeped out and quite angry. "Or you can use that **Hogwarts Student ver. 76.0** thing that Celia..."

"Celia?" Mrs. Quirrell said in the deeper voice. "Who's that? Friend of yours, lad?"

"She's Dumbledore's granddaughter," Harry snapped back.

Mrs. Quirrell's skin got really pale with a small hint of pale green to it, and then her hair turned into snakes. Her eyes became yellow and catlike. "I…I…get me out…" he heard the timid voice say. "NO! SHUT UP!" a snaky voice hissed, clawing at her own wrists. "EITHER EXIST AS MY SHELL, OR SIMPLY REMOVE YOURSELF!"

Harry watched this scene in disgust, until Nezura came back with drinks and rushed over toward his side. _"Dispersium!"_ Nezura shouted. A pale green light leapt out of Mrs. Quirrell's face and then shattered into fragments after about two seconds. The shards of the serpentine creature plunged downward after that. "Potter, you learned that basic Exorcism spell in Necromancy, right? Around someone like Constanza Quirrell, you'll have to remember it quite often. She's a bit…_unlucky_."

'_**Dispersium**, she said,'_ thought Harry. '_I think I'll really need to remember that for Manipulations…after all, she said she'd be teaching_.' "Er…are you okay?" he asked Mrs. Quirrell, who now looked like she was back to her normal self at the moment…normal for _her_.

"I'm _fine_," she hissed. "Look, Potter…whatever it was, I can handle it without some cocky bastard like you coming to 'help out.' How do I know that you won't turn me into a dust cloud! Er…Mitzi, I haven't told you this, but things started happening to me in 1993…_blackouts_. I've harmed other people, but I can't remember even having violent _thoughts_ about the victims. Something's dwelling inside me, but I don't know who or what it is…but I'm afraid to get an Exorcist to see me…I'm scared to death that it might be a loved one or someone that's close to me that doesn't want to die. I don't like being a threat…that's why I went to Transylvania…I wanted to get away from all of this _mess_ over here in Britain…but it follows me…says I'm important to the Cause, whatever that is…a prime candidate for…for the…" She cut herself short and looked like she wanted to scurry off. She seemed like the bewildered, cowering lady that Harry had seen Nezura talking to before he gone over there…and she _really_ seemed to hate him.

"_You_ hurt someone?" Harry asked. He couldn't believe it; Mrs. Quirrell didn't look like the type that could damage anything; she looked like a weakling.

"That's what the Ministry told me—they mentioned that I might be possessed—after it looked like I killed the Tawny twins, Michelle and Audrey. Turns out I did, but I don't recall…" her voice wavered a bit, and her eyes got very misty. She cried on Nezura's linen-covered shoulder. "I didn't mean to…you've got to believe me, Mitzi!"

"Look, Stanzi…" Nezura trailed off. "Are you feeling okay?"

"NO!"

Harry was staring at this petite woman in disbelief. She actually killed someone! Sure, Quirrell was shocking enough, but has his wife followed in his footsteps? Both seemed like the 'easy prey' type…his thoughts were racing. "But, did you know about your husband?" She probably did…or she knew and didn't want to believe it. "Did he tell you that he served Voldemort?"

Mrs. Quirrell flinched when Harry said the name again and then snapped at him, "I think I'd know my own husband better than you...and he'd have rather died—a much more miserable death than the one you gave him—than ever serve a Dark wizard like that! If it hadn't been for you and that damn vampire he met in Romania..."

"That was _true_!" Harry exclaimed. "I thought he made that story up!"

"No," Mrs. Quirrell said angrily. "My husband liked to tell some rather tall tales, Potter, but the vampire was real. I can even give you a name…Darius Ahsimal, Sargon Von Dorian's boyfriend. Perhaps you've heard about the Von Dorians? They're some of the worst vampires in the world…they don't convert anyone into a vampire. All they do is feed off of people, and leave multitudes of corpses behind them. I think someone of Von Dorian descent is in your Year, probably in Slytherin." She sneered at Harry and gave him a very hateful look. "You best be watching your back. If _I'm_ not the one to stab you, rest assured someone else will do the job for me. I'm pretty sure that the Von Dorian student will find you, and when they do…I hope they take a big bite out of your neck and suck you dry."

'_What's your problem?'_ Harry thought savagely.

"If you only _knew_ what I've been through since you made me a widow, Potter, you'd be thinking in a whole different perspective. _My only **problem** is that I've become an unwilling puppet for dead people_!" After Mrs. Quirrell berated Harry once more, it was clear that Harry had spoken what was on his mind without realizing it. Mrs. Quirrell was relatively pretty and had a sweet-looking face, but judging from her foul temper, Harry realized that Manipulations wasn't going to be as fun as it had been with Wolfgang as his teacher. This was going to be Hell on Earth.

And Harry had thought **Ebonyste** was bad..."Are you sure that it's a good idea to teach a class if you're constantly getting possessed?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Mrs. Quirrell snarled, clenching her pale fists. "Today was just a bad day…it's usually not to this extent. Besides, I've got all the requirements to teach you. Since I no longer am a Manipulator, I think I'll be best-suited to teach your Manipulations class. I'll start teaching Tuesday. Monday, you'll have a substitute because I'll be moving into Hogwarts and will be too busy to teach that day." She gave Harry one more hateful glare and then said, "Well, I best be off. I'll deal with you later, Potter." With that, Mrs. Quirrell left the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry that Stanzi was rude to you, Harry," Nezura said. "I thought she'd be thrilled to meet you, honest." She then handed Harry a glass of punch. "This stuff is pretty good, but it made me feel a bit funny when I drank it. Be careful."

Harry took a sip of the party punch and realized that someone had spiked it immediately. "Thanks, Mitzi, but no thanks," he said as he handed the cup back to Nezura. He walked around and tried to see what everyone was doing again…Parenein was showing a scowling Snitchgrass his latest _Playboy_, apparently Lewn was on the cover. Furrier was in a little trench coat and a mobster-style hat. He also had on a pair of sunglasses; he looked ridiculous, because he was _still_ a long-haired calico cat. Skylarke was talking to Mortius, obviously mistaking him to be Snape. Lewn, Cyanis, and Ebonyste were telling jokes to Sinistra and Sprout, who were simply rolling their eyes. Nezura was excitedly talking to Flitwick, and handed him a bag of candy from Honeydukes. Dumbledore and McGonagall were exchanging candies that people had given them earlier that day. Ahsimal was drinking what appeared to be his seventh glass of punch, and was talking to Hagrid, who was also drinking.

"Didn't I say I'd meet you here, Harry?" said a somewhat familiar voice. Harry turned around to see Isis Acheron was dressed up like a ballerina. She handed him a candy bar. On the wrapper, it read

_**Lorelei Siren's Luminescence Bar**_

_Lights up for hours!_

"Happy Halloween!" Isis said. "Enjoying the masquerade, Harry?" She then giggled a bit and said, "I like your costume…you did Neptune, right? Greek god of the sea?"

"Neptune was the _Roman_ name, Isis," Hermione said as she and Ron came up to join in the conversation. "How you made Hawkbane _or_ Ravenclaw, I'll never know. Harry _was_ doing the sea god, though. You weren't completely off."

"What do you think of my trident?" Harry asked Isis, who giggled in delight as he lifted it up above his head. "Nice, eh?"

"Want to know what it looks like?" Malfoy said, while he was dancing with Pansy Parkinson in a nearby corner. "It looks like a frog gig."

"A _what_?" Ron asked, a bit confused…he hadn't heard Malfoy the first time.

"A frog gig, Weasel," Malfoy said between sniggers. "Frog gig!"

"Frog gig! Frog gig! Frog gig! Frog gig!" Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Marcus, and numerous other Slytherins chanted for at least five minutes.

"Malfoy's cute," Isis said dreamily. "I just hope he doesn't know I've got a crush on him!"

"Hey, wait a minute," Harry said. "Isis, aren't you dating Seamus?"

"Yes," Isis said, "but I still fantasize about other guys I think are cute, like Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini."

"I remember Blaise!" Hermione said. "He's the only Slytherin boy that never really gave us that much trouble that was in our Year. Not once has he picked on anyone, as far as I know." She then smiled and said, "I don't know about Malfoy, but I think Blaise is pretty cute too."

"What happened to Vicky?" Ron teased, elbowing Hermione.

Hermione's cheeks turned a bit pink. "Ron, don't call him Vicky! His name is _Viktor_!"

"You date _Viktor Krum, _Hermione!" Isis squealed in delight. "You lucky girl! Do you have a thing for celebrities or something? I personally just go with someone I think is cute, but to each their own, right?"

"Viktor and I've been a couple for almost two years," Hermione said cheerily.

"Ugh," Ron said. "Harry, let's get out of here. All those two are going to talk about are their boyfriends for the rest of the party, so why don't we find Atticus, Josh and Celia? I bet they'll have something better to talk about."

"Okay, that's fine by me," Harry said, "as long as Josh doesn't act like a cocky bastard."

"He can't help it," Ron said. "He's always like that." Harry and Ron both laughed at their little joke.

"How about we talk to Cassandra and her friend?" Harry asked Ron.

"No, Harry…I'm sure Cassandra's still mad at me for talking trash about _her kind_," Ron said uneasily. "She's going to bite me, I just know it!"

"Now, why would I do something stupid like _that_, even if I am—oh, what was it you called me?—_a creature of darkness_. I believe that was it, if I'm not mistaken." Cassandra said as she walked over toward Ron and Harry. Rhianna was with her too, still carrying her sword. "Ron, you'd suck as a vampire. You'd be too scared to bite a person, so you'd be biting cats, owls, and toads…whatever animal you can find at Hogwarts. Besides, if I bit a student, I'd get expelled. Thank you very much, but I am thoroughly enjoying my clean record."

Rhianna raised an eyebrow and then asked Ron, "Why do you and Potter give my friend a hard time about being a vampire? She can't help it, you know." She let out a long and heavy sigh. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a person with a holier-than-thou attitude toward others." She pulled her sword out of its sheath and showed off a rather impressive move. "I trained myself how to use this thing properly. In a mere second, I could cut your head off of your neck, if you're not careful. Believe me when I say, you don't want to mess with me."

"I believe you," Ron said. He then said weakly to Cassandra, "Look, I was just teasing you. I didn't mean anything by it."

Cassandra cuffed Ron's shoulder and let out a rather short laugh. "Don't you think I know that? Didn't I say _apology accepted_? It was _Hermione_ that got me to cry, not you."

"You _cried_!" Rhianna asked Cassandra, fingering her sword's handle. "And it was Hermione Granger that did that to you? How about I pay her a little visit to set things straight?"

"Please don't hurt her," Ron said. "Hermione's my friend. Besides, you didn't seem too mad with her when you introduced Rhianna to us."

"Vampires can hide emotions unless they let them take over," Cassandra said. "_Forgive and forget_, that's always what my dad says, although he's human."

"I requested my favorite song when this party started…I'm sure that our guest band will play it soon," Rhianna said suddenly, changing the conversation. "Everyone, shut up…this is one of my favorites. _Grim_ _Reaper's Harvest_, by Alecto Silverman, Megaera Moon, and Tisiphone Shady…you've heard of them before, haven't you? They have a band calledthe_ Furies_, quite a favorite amongst the Slytherins."

Cassandra nodded. "Yeah, you can't go into the Common Room anymore without hearing someone singing a song written by Celestina Warbeck or one of the Furies. That is my kid brother's favorite band. I like the Weird Sisters better, but the Furies are a close second. Personally, my favorite out of the three Furies is Tisiphone. She sounds so wrathful in her music, as if she wants to avenge something."

"Oh, really?" Rhianna said. "I didn't know that you liked Tisiphone. I like Alecto better. If she starts on a song, she won't rest until she gets it perfected for her fans. She's the one that always wants to get things done _properly_, because she's so restless."

"I like Megaera, even though she gets jealous of even the silliest things. I love the way she dresses, and I hope it catches on really soon," said Celia, joining in on the conversation. "I can't believe you guys like the Furies too!"

Cassandra tapped Rhianna on the shoulder and said happily, "Hey, guess what I've got?"

"I have no idea," Rhianna said, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me."

"Yeah," Harry said, butting in. "Tell us, Cassandra. What have you got?"

Cassandra pulled out five tickets…the Furies and the Weird Sisters in concert on November 6th…the day Mortius was having the Death Eater Raid at Hogwarts. "I'd like to take you, Rhianna, and Atticus with me to that concert," Cassandra said. "I've got to think about the last ticket..."

"Please take me, Cassandra!" Celia said. "I want to go too!"

"SHUT UP," Rhianna shouted. "I requested _Grim Reaper's Harvest_, and I want to hear it!"

There were three young women up on top of the teachers' table. They looked like they were about twenty-four or twenty-five. One was tall and muscular, another was a bit plump and appeared to be pregnant, and the third one looked like she needed to gain a couple of pounds. A sign above them read _The Furies_ and it looked like a sketch of three old hags with red eyes and snake for hair, just like the Mythological Furies that would torment the Living, like with the cranes of Abacus.

The tall, muscular Fury was dressed in a robe that looked like a stained glass image of ivy, and had on baggy, black clothing underneath it. Her eyes were olive green, and she had put on some makeup to emphasize the color. She had curly red hair down to her waist and besides two small braids that were pulled back, her hair was just flowing as she did her hypnotic dance. "Alecto Silverman, here…ready to play a song that was requested by a student! But, before we do that, Megaera's got something she wants to say."

The plump-looking Fury, Megaera Moon, came up to the front. She was a very pretty Hispanic woman with black hair and teal eyes. She was wearing frayed white jeans with a black maternity top. She also had a really tawdry wedding ring on her left hand. "Sorry I couldn't look better for the masquerade, ladies and gentlemen," she began. "Someone locked Tisiphone in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom about an hour ago, so Alecto and I spent our rehearsal time trying to get her out before she did something crazy. Oh, and for the _Furies_ fans out there, I've got wonderful news! My husband, Nisus, came here to see me. I'll let him tell you the surprise."

"Go on, Nisus" said the third Fury, who had to be Tisiphone Shady. She was gaunt and cheerless-looking. "Megaera, get your husband out here…I'm getting impatient with him."

A young man with dark brown, long hair came up to the front. He had one strand in the front that was longer than the rest that was a light purple color. Nisus Moon, Megaera's husband, was dressed in stonewashed jeans and a _The Furies_ T-shirt. "Megaera and I are going to have a baby. Mara Lucina Moon is due January 29, 1997." Nisus kissed his wife and then sat back down. "Show these kids what _real_ music sounds like!"

Tisiphone rolled her eyes and then took the front. "When I find out who locked me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, I'll give him Hell…just wait and see!"

"Enough of this chit-chat…that's not what we were paid to do, you know, Tisiphone," said Alecto. "Let's get this show on the road! For our fan who requested this song, we bring you _Grim Reaper's Harvest_," The Furies got together and started the music. Alecto was the first to start; she played a hypnotic beat with her drum set. Tisiphone began to enchant the audience with her keyboard harmony. Megaera had a very stirring melody with her guitar. They sang together a rather uneasy, vengeful, and envious-sounding song that captivated everyone:

"_Alas, for dismal days are these,_

_All shrivels up, the souls, the trees_

_I kneel here, cowering on my knees_

_Hoping that I might be spared_

_The Sickle of Death comes toward me_

_It now swings lower; I'll soon be free_

_It passes me by, now points at thee_

_Darkness takes the brave and scared_

_Stay behind, love, let them take me…_

_There's no escape from destiny_

_To Hades and Persephone_

_Where the Manes and Lemures fared_

_Where once was life, there's barren ground_

_It'll take you before you make a sound_

_No trace is left, you won't be found_

_Charon has his sharp teeth bared_

_Mischief, lust, hate, crime, it all_

_Leads to everyone's downfall_

_The rotten flesh begins to crawl_

_Another soul dies…nobody cared._"

Quite a beautiful song, but it was so sinister and depressing…actually, Harry enjoyed the music of the Furies for the rest of the party. It was so good to hear that music that he didn't seem to hear the chants of _frog gig_ coming from Malfoy and his friends. "And you said you wanted to take me to a concert hosted by those three?" he asked Cassandra. When she nodded, he asked, "What about Ron and Hermione? Are you going to ask them to go?"

"Hermione upset me pretty badly earlier today at breakfast, and I'm still waiting for her to apologize for being so heartless," Cassandra sighed. "As for Ron…I don't know if he likes _The Furies_ or not. Something deep inside told me that it would be best if I took you, Atticus, and Rhianna."

"Well, I want to go too," Celia said. "If you can find it in your heart to fork over that fifth ticket…"

"Oh, all right," Cassandra said, handing Celia the other ticket. She laughed a bit and said, "You're so persistent, you know that?"

"Yeah," said Celia, beaming. "I know, but it gets me what I want, doesn't it? Therefore, being persistent can have its perks."

"I guess so," Cassandra said. "I'll see you in the Hawkbane classes Monday after the party, Celia."

"Why not sooner?" Celia said in a rather friendly tone.

"Because Cassandra is going to Hogsmeade for the weekend to visit her parents," Rhianna said as she approached her friend. "_And_ she's taking me with her!" She finally put her sword back in its sheath, and then said, "They'll be here around the end of the party to pick us up."

"Does my Gramps know about this?" Celia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Cassandra said. "Severus is the one that told him what a good idea it would be to get me out of the castle to see my family for a couple of days. Then, Dumbledore asked me if I wanted to take a friend with me. Of course I said Rhianna, because she's my best friend, so I'll get to see my mum, dad, and kid brother for the first time since last Christmas."

"Well, at least you've got a family to visit," Celia said drearily. "I'm stuck with Gramps."

"You say that like it's a _bad_ thing to have Dumbledore as your grandfather," Rhianna pointed out. "I'm stuck with an abusive guardian. Cassandra can tell you just as easily as I can that he's a complete asshole."

"Isn't _that_ the truth!" Cassandra exclaimed. "Dave is the worst of his kind..."

"Cassandra," a deep voice said, cutting into the conversation. A successful-looking man with chestnut hair, ice blue eyes and a hooked nose walked up to Cassandra. With him was a lovely woman with long black hair and light green eyes. Obviously, they were Claudius and Lydia Snape, Cassandra's parents. Harry recognized them from the Christmas picture. "The masquerade's almost over…do you and Rhianna have your stuff packed for the weekend?"

"Yes, Claudius," Cassandra said.

Claudius rolled his eyes. "Why do you insist on calling your own parents by their _first names_?" When Cassandra shrugged, he sighed. "Oh well, it's not a big deal. There's no use taming _you_."

Lydia looked around the room a bit and then saw Harry and Celia. At that moment, Ron and Hermione decided to join in. "Cassandra, are these those new friends you were writing me about?"

"Yes," Cassandra said. "Everyone, allow me to introduce you to my parents."

Lydia did a bit of a composer's bow, like Skylarke did a lot, and then said, "I'm sorry that I can't take the time to get to know any of you better, but it is a pleasure to meet all of you in person. Claudius and I just came to pick up Cassandra and Rhianna, so we'll be leaving pretty soon."

"Scrappy!" Claudius shouted. A rather elderly house elf appeared behind him. "We need you to get the luggage."

"Do you really need to be so rash with _my_ house elves?" Lydia snapped at Claudius.

"I insist," Claudius said smoothly. "You let all three of them run wild, so now they need a bit more discipline. It wouldn't hurt _you_ either." Lydia's eyes widened, and then she got a look on her face that clearly showed she was outraged by that suggestion. Claudius then turned to Cassandra and Rhianna and said, "Are we ready to go yet?"

"I guess so," said Rhianna.

After Scrappy the house elf got the luggage, Cassandra's parents, Cassandra, and Rhianna walked out of the Great Hall to spend the weekend over in Hogsmeade. '_I wish I could visit someone like Sirius on the weekends,'_ Harry thought bitterly. He couldn't help but take a last glance of Cassandra's mum. Lydia was gorgeous and had quite a nice body, too…very seductive.

About another hour passed, and the masquerade was still going on. People were dancing, exchanging sweets, playing pranks…it was a beautiful time. Suddenly, Mrs. Quirrell scurried back into the Great Hall, looking absolutely terrified. "Headmaster!" she shrieked. "A dead body is in the hall, and blood's everywhere!" She shrugged her shoulders and then said, "I just thought you needed to know."


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen:

A New Manipulations Teacher

"Attention students," Ebonyste said, amplifying his voice. "I think it's safe to say that the Masquerade is over. Thank you for having a good time, and for not leaving a mess for Mr. Filch to clean up. Everyone knows how much he'd hate that. We're all looking forward to doing this again for Christmas. Since something killed either a student or teacher—I don't know any details, except a guest of Nezura's found a fresh body about half a minute ago—it would be wise for all of you to head back to your dormitories…where this thing will not be able to get you, probably. I think I'm going to take cover too, so goodbye for now! I'll see all of you later, I hope!" With that, Ebonyste sprinted out of the Great Hall and started heading off to his quarters.

There was a lot of screaming coming from the First Years. The entire room was brought into complete disorder. It had been a spectacular night until Constanza Quirrell had brought the ill news that someone was dead. Ahsimal got to the front of the room and then amplified his voice, trying to get a little order in all of the anarchy.

"Listen up!" he shouted. Everyone shut their mouths so they could hear the Head of Hawkbane. "Everyone needs to remain calm. The Head Boys and Head Girls for each House will lead everyone back to their dormitories. Just whatever you do…don't panic. That is the worst thing you can do right now."

Harry went with the rest of his House to the Gryffindor Common Room. He walked to his dormitory and pulled out the crystal ball that Snitchgrass had given him as a gift before the school year had begun. All of a sudden, he remembered that he needed to meet Skylarke outside his office…with the crystal ball. He had a good feeling that it would be very hard to get out of the Gryffindor Tower without being caught, so he brought his Hawkbane card and Invisibility Cloak with him. He put on his Cloak and hoped nobody saw him as he walked out of the Tower.

He walked halfway across the castle to reach Turret Fifteen, where he entered the Curses & Rootwork classroom and waited for Skylarke outside his office. Suddenly, he heard something right outside the classroom door that didn't sound so great…

"No, please!" Harry heard Skylarke cry shrilly. "Don't take it away from me…anything but _that_! I'll do anything…_anything…_"

"I'm losing patience with you, Morty," a raspy voice said. "I think I'll take my payment."

"No, I beg you! It's mine, so let me keep it; something that beautiful doesn'tbelong in your hands!" There were a lot of screams of defiance, and then there were footsteps that got fainter. Skylarke came into the classroom, and his eyes were really wet. "Oh, Harry; I see you showed up like I asked you to. Weren't you worried that there might be something dangerous in the school? First it was those Hawkbane students, and then it was Wolfe Leir, and now it's..." he stopped himself and then said, "…_someone else_. You'll find out soon enough who the deceased is."

"What was happening out there?" Harry asked.

"Er…nothing," Skylarke said dismally. "Some of the other teachers here amuse themselves by singling me out for bullying purposes; think it is funny. It's really not that big of a deal…would you please follow me inside my office?" He opened the door for Harry, who followed him.

Harry looked around and couldn't help but notice how pristine Skylarke's office was, and how _dark_. The walls were all covered in bookcases…filled entirely with multitudes of books with eerie titles like: Dark Lords in History, Dr. Hemlock's Guide to the Most Maleficent Curses, 1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis, Rootwork: As Sinister As It Gets?, Dark Arts Miscellany, Advanced Curses of the Dark Arts, and Curses & Rootwork, Mage's Degree Edition…however, the one that caught Harry's attention the most was a rather thick book bound in green leather entitled Skylarke's Theory, Innovation in Sorcery?. On the front of that particular book, was that seven-point star symbol again.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." Harry found a couple of dragon-leather recliners in the back of the room. Skylarke sat down in one and put away the book that was on his end table in the corner…Dealing with Death by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. Harry sat in the other chair. "Well, how did you enjoy yourself at the masquerade until that damn Quirrell woman came in and got everybody to panic?"

"Oh, it was okay," Harry admitted. "I saw you talking to Professor Snape earlier."

"He's been acting really odd lately…very jumpy," Skylarke said. "He flinches whenever I talk to him, and he's even forgotten my name a couple of times. That's peculiar; I thought he viewed me as a relatively close friend. Look, Harry, can I trust you to keep another secret?"

"Sure," Harry said. He liked Skylarke, but he had no idea what the professor was going to say to him. The Curses & Rootwork teacher was an unpredictable man. "I need to tell you something, and I really hope you believe me."

"What a coincidence," Skylarke said. "There's something I felt that I needed to tell you, Harry, but I'm afraid _you_ won't believe _me. _Would you rather me go first or would you feel more comfortable with that honor?"

"I guess I'll go first," Harry said. "I can tell you why Snape's been acting weird."

"You _can_?" Skylarke said, a bit confused. "Well, out with it…what's wrong with him?"

"He's not Snape," Harry said. "Remember the gorgonix? I think Ebonyste knows where you can find it, but I wouldn't trust him…he's helping a Death Eater named Mortius who's not only pretending to be Professor Snape, but is also the dad of Marcus Cantarus. Mortius has been parading around as Snape since the end of the 1993-1994 school year."

"Is that so?" Skylarke said. He didn't sound like he thought Harry was losing his mind…he sounded (and looked) like he believed him. "Does Cassandra know about this? Have you got any clues as to what happened to Severus if that's Mortius pretending to be him?"

"Cassandra doesn't know," Harry said. "Mortius used the Laconus Curse on Snape to make him look like him, copied his memories, and then sent Snape back to Azkaban in his place. Only the Dementors knew different, and they really aren't picky with their victims."

Skylarke squirmed a bit in his seat. "You mean to tell me that the Severus Snape I've been talking to since you finished your Third Year was actually Julius Cantarus!" When Harry nodded, Skylarke looked like he wanted to curl up into a corner and die. "That means he knows about the Rings…and about my theory…_everything_. I'll have to warn Darius and the others. I guess nobody is safe anymore…are you sure that Severus is in Azkaban, Harry?"

"That's what Mortius told me," Harry said flatly. "I think someone might have put some Veritaserum in his drink, because he was very eager to answer questions."

"Speaking of Azkaban…I need to tell you something painfully important. Darius and I are going to head off toward Azkaban after dinner sometime soon, we're thinking about November 5th or 6th, and we were going to bust a very close friend of ours out of that awful hellhole. While I'm over there to help Aurelius get out..."

"You mean Aurelius _Fallowin_!" Harry exclaimed. "Didn't he murder your family? Weren't you the only survivor?"

"I'm the only Skylarke that's in the world of the Living," Skylarke said, and shrugged his shoulders. "Not that I miss my family; they were a lot like the Malfoys—wealthy and arrogant like that—and none of them really appreciated me that much anyway."

"So you're saying that you're glad your family is dead!" Harry exclaimed. That sounded absolutely monstrous…_perhaps Skylarke hired Fallowin and those Death Eaters to do it_?

"Quite the contrary," Skylarke said. "I miss them, but I wouldn't pay Darius to bring them back to me..."

"You can pay Ahsimal to bring people back from the Dead?" Harry said, surprised. "I didn't know he did that."

"It costs a fortune," Skylarke said. "I could easily afford it because I inherited all of my family's money, property, and possessions, everything in the will…but I wouldn't waste money on people who never had any respect for me. My parents viewed me as a big disappointment because I was never very healthy to begin with. They idolized my older brother and my little sister—she used to be a friend of your mother's _and _now she's your friend Marcus's mum—could do no wrong in their eyes. Everything that went wrong was _always_ my fault in one way or another. Now, tell me, Harry…would _you_ want to Resurrect people like that?"

"I guess not," Harry said. Skylarke made a lot of sense…maybe he had a point. "But if you're the only Skylarke they left alive, how come Stella Cantarus thought you were dead?"

"She's _unaware_," Skylarke said flatly. "Stella's time in the Living world is _finally _running out…she won't last much longer." He then let out a heavy sigh. "She led Julius Cantarus inside the Skylarke Manor. Severus killed her, but Julius brought her back. He's not so good with Necromancy—honestly, he never was—and so he couldn't Resurrect Stella exactly how he wanted her…she's forced to _live_—if you can call that living—as a gore crow until her body falls apart. You understand, he didn't mean to kill his guide…just the Skylarkes."

"But, I thought Fallowin killed everyone in your family, except for you," Harry argued.

"Aurelius would never do that; he was never even a Death Eater. Poor guy; he was framed. Since he had already gotten into trouble with the Ministry of Magic before—it was petty stuff like vandalizing Gringotts' Bank, nothing serious—I bet it was relatively easy to pin the blame on him and make him look like the culprit." Skylarke pulled out a letter that had his name on it in Ahsimal's dark, neat handwriting.

All of a sudden, Harry remembered something Ahsimal had shouted at him, after he'd told the pale Necromancer that he'd forgotten to give Skylarke and "Snape" some rather important letters. **_Those letters…do you want to know what they were about? They were concerning a close friend of ours that was wrongfully imprisoned. An innocent man is literally dying in Azkaban, Potter, and the longer it takes for Severus and Morty to get those letters, the more time is taken away from my colleague_**. Harry shuddered…that was the exact same letter Ahsimal had fussed at him about.

"I knew Aurelius was in Azkaban, but I had no idea it was this _bad_ until Darius wrote me." Skylarke looked at the letter sadly. "Darius told me that you forgot to send this letter to my classroom, but I don't see how it could have made any difference on Aurelius's behalf if I had gotten it earlier this week rather than later. The unfortunate fellow would still be imprisoned, just like he has been for nearly thirteen years."

"Can you tell me who was picking on you outside earlier?" Harry asked.

"I see no reason why I couldn't," Skylarke said. "Professor Cyanis was teasing me about my past, and he eventually stole something that has a lot of sentimental value to me…a gold locket. If you find a gold locket in the shape of a seven-point star that plays music when you open it, please let me know. You have no idea how precious it really is to me."

"Why did you want me to bring this again?" Harry put his crystal ball on a stand. "Isn't _it _the reason you wanted to see me?"

Skylarke stopped talking about his gold locket that Cyanis had taken from him and took a look at the crystal ball Snitchgrass had given Harry. "I talked to Mitzi at the masquerade," said Skylarke. "She said she hates crystal balls and the only type of crystal she sells at her store is the type that fits inside your palm. She's never been a crystal artist, so therefore Snitchgrass lied about where she got that crystal ball for you."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "She said it was a _RedStar_ model, too; it doesn't look like yours."

"Good observation, Harry," Skylarke said. "That's because this is _not _a _RedStar_ crystal ball...actually, I have no idea what model it actually is. I've never seen a crystal ball that looks like this before…would you mind too terribly if I keep it in here and observe it for a while? I'll even let you use my _RedStar_ while I study the nature of your..."

"I don't have a problem with letting you _keep _my crystal ball," said Harry. "Go ahead, Professor. Old Lucinda's just a tad on the creepy side, if you catch my drift. She's always hanging out with that pervert Parenein..."

"That's because they're good friends," Skylarke said. "Three of the first Four Hawkbanes were close friends; Lewn, Snitchgrass, and Parenein. None of them really like my dear friend Professor Ahsimal—I have no idea why; he's only intimidating until you talk to him on a friendly level—and I must admit that Wolfe had only started teaching this year…it's odd that he made it into the Hawkbane Society and I didn't…my résumé was as thick as his _at least_ tenfold..."

"Hawkbane _Society_?"

"That's what they call the group of teachers that are in charge of the Advanced Placement courses," Skylarke explained. "The people inside that society are referred to as _Hawkbanes_, as you already know. The first Four Hawkbanes—that is Lewn, Snitchgrass, Parenein, and Ahsimal—can appoint other teachers. If Darius ever suggested someone, I guess it's an unwritten rule that the other three will not only push them aside, but make life a living Hell for their new victim." Skylarke looked at the clock and said, "It's two in the morning…how about I give you something to energize yourself? You'd like to look around for a while before you retire for the night, am I correct?" After Harry nodded, Skylarke handed him a couple of tangerine Mood Drops. "This will keep you awake for another eighteen hours at least."

As Harry left Skylarke's office, the gaunt professor walked out as well. "Er…Harry, would you mind helping me with something tomorrow night?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," Harry began, "but I've got an Afterlight Necromancy lesson with Ahsimal."

"Oh," Skylarke said, walking back toward his office. "Thank you for telling me that…I think it's great that you're going to be doing Afterlight. It's some pretty hardcore stuff. You take care, okay? If anything _odd_ happens with this crystal ball, I'll let you know. Er…you're seeing Lucinda tomorrow for that Hawkbane program, right?"

"What about it?"

"Well, try to bring up the crystal ball in your conversation and see what she does. If she gets a bit squeamish, I think it'll be safe to say that she cannot be trusted on your part. Just remember, Harry…be very careful with who you trust. People aren't always what they seem to be on the outside."

Harry didn't eat the Mood Drops. He went straight to sleep when he got back to the Gryffindor Tower, and just put the two Mood Drops that Skylarke had given him on his nightstand for safekeeping. He had a very interesting dream that night:

_He was in Turret Eleven, waiting for Manipulations to begin. The room looked the same as it always had—a classroom with Quidditch posters everywhere—it still had the appearance of a college-aged wizard's domain. The door swung open, and Professor Leir walked in. Harry noticed that there were strangulation marks on Leir's neck, and that his eyes were bloodshot…Wolfe Leir was dead, but for some odd reason, he was walking into his old classroom and seemed to want to teach the class. He stood in front of all the students and said in his friendly, familiar voice, "I hate to say this, everyone, but I'm going to have to leave you..."_

"_NO! Stay with us!" screamed an entire chorus of girls. "We love you, Professor!"_

_Wolfe looked deader than he had a minute ago. Sirius, Lupin, Quinn Moon, Ella Jorkins, Sally-Anne Perks, Sam McCallisten, Morag MacDougal, Meredith Fallowin, and Cedric Diggory walked through the door…they all looked dead, too. "Wolfe, we're waiting!" Sirius said sharply, tapping his foot. "Quit taking your time and hurry up!"_

"_But, I—''_

"_But _**_nothing_**_, Wolfgang; come _**_on_**_already!" said Lupin, getting impatient like Sirius._

"_Three of your four star pupils are going with you, if that's any comfort," said Quinn, Sally-Anne, and Sam. "Malfoy's staying behind…for now."_

"_He'll run into trouble soon, though," said Quinn._

"_Shut up, Quinn!" Sally-Anne hissed. "Wolfie, come with us…it's time you cross over."_

"**_NO!_**_" shouted Wolfe. "I'm not ready…I don't want to be dead yet. Can I stay behind?"_

"_No," Cedric said curtly. "Professor, you're dead…just like the rest of us."_

_The Dead dragged the defiant Manipulations teacher with them and they all disappeared before Harry's eyes. The classroom looked so sad, so lonely…so abandoned. It looked as if the entire room was waiting longingly for Wolfe Leir to come back to teach in there. _

_Suddenly, the atmosphere of Turret Eleven changed dramatically. The posters disappeared, and torture devices were put there in their place. Fire erupted outside, and the interior looked very hellish. At that moment, the door opened. In came Constanza Quirrell, hooded, carrying a bloodstained sword._

"_Hello and welcome to Manipulations. I'll be your new teacher! If anyone in here has the bright idea to pass notes or talk in my class…I'll know because I have eyes in the back of my head." She stood up in front of the entire class and said evilly, "Now, allow me to introduce my assistant in this class, my master everywhere else…Lord Voldemort!" She pulled her hood down…there he was, right behind her—_

"Harry, it's time to wake up!" Ron said. "Today's Saturday, and you've got to see Professor Snitchgrass for Hawkbane reasons. You're lucky Snitchgrass is cool. I'm stuck with Lewn."

Harry grumbled as he got up, and put on a clean outfit. He combed his hair as best he could, but it still stuck up (like usual) in the back. He ate breakfast with Ron and Hermione, and then started heading toward Turret Twelve, where he would get to talk to Snitchgrass. Harry walked out of the Great Hall, and passed by the Curses & Rootwork, Hypnosis, and Necromancy classrooms to get to the Astrology room.

After waiting outside the door for about ten minutes, Snitchgrass opened up the classroom. "Velcome, 'Arry," she said mystically. "Vat vould you like to talk about in zis session?" She looked at him and then asked, "Did you 'ave a bad dream last night?"

"Yes," Harry said flatly. "_Please_ tell me Constanza Quirrell isn'tteaching Manipulations!"

"I'm afraid she is, 'Arry," Snitchgrass said. "Za stars 'ave told me zis. Zere is somezing seriously vrong vith her aura, though…some sort ov negative power pulses out ov 'er body randomly. Veird voman…be on za lookout vor 'er. She might be in league vith He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Uh…yeah, I kind of get that feeling already. Lucinda?" Harry said.

"Yes, 'Arry?" Snitchgrass said.

"Where did you get the crystal ball you sent me? Skylarke told me that **Nezura's Curiosity** doesn't sell them, and that it's not even a _RedStar_."

"You believe _Skylarke_?" Snitchgrass said, and then broke into laughter. "I'm your Hawkbane an' you trust _Mortimer Skylarke_ over _me_? You must 'ave rocks vor brains."

"I can assure you that I don't," Harry snapped back, getting impatient. "Why else would I be in Hawkbanes?"

"It's not vor your grades, I can tell you zat right now," Snitchgrass said, handing Harry his interim report. "I chose you because ov your potential and sheer talent. I'm za Hawkbane zat doesn't look at grades, as I'm sure za other people in Hawkbane 'ave already told you.." She pulled out two bottles of a light green, fizzy drink of some kind. "Do you know vat zis is?"

"No."

"Zis is splipberry juice," said Snitchgrass, pulling the cap off of one of the bottles. She offered the other one to Harry. "Zey are really good...and vill sharpen your senses." Harry accepted the drink from Snitchgrass, but waited to see if she'd drink hers before he took a sip out of his. She did so, so he guessed it would be okay to take a swig of his drink. "Do you like?"

Harry had never tasted anything like _this_ before…it tasted like a cross between a lemon, a raspberry, and a very juicy blackberry. It was quite delicious, but it made him feel very alert of everything. "What was this stuff called again?"

"Splipberry nectar," Snitchgrass said.

"Well, back on the topic of the crystal ball..."

"Ack, I forgot! I needed to ask you somezing, 'Arry," said Snitchgrass. "It's about za next Hawkbane Quidditch match. You played against Slytherin last time, right?"

"Er, yes, but what about the..."

"You're playing against Ravenclaw on November 5th, understand?"

Harry hated having Snitchgrass cut him off every chance he tried to bring up the crystal ball. "Yeah, I understand. Er…now about the crystal ball you sent me…where did you really get it?"

"A man outside **Nezura's Curiosity** sold it to me and said it vas a _RedStar _model. I thought it vould be a nice gift vor you, 'Arry," she said sweetly. Harry didn't really believe her. "Oh, look at za time! 'Arry, enjoy za rest of your veekend, okay? Our session is over."

Harry walked out of Turret Twelve feeling quite disappointed. He hadn't gotten anything truthful out of Snitchgrass. All he'd gotten out of her was a bottle of splipberry nectar. He decided it was about time to pay Hagrid a visit. As he started walking over there, he couldn't find Ron anywhere. However, he did find Hermione was walking over toward Hagrid's hut as well. "Hey, Hermione…wait up!" Hermione stopped for Harry, but she didn't look too happy. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," she said. "Professor Parenein tried to kiss me, and he really pays no attention to Marcus. Not like _that's_ bothering me anymore, since Marcus has started treating us like garbage, but I really hate spending an hour on Saturdays with that…that _pervert_."

Harry sighed. "I hate to hear that you're not enjoying the Hawkbane program, Hermione. Actually, neither am I." He showed her the splipberry nectar. "What do you know about splipberry nectar?"

"It's used a lot in potions that deal with bad dreams…it's supposed to make you very alert and it actually sharpens your senses."

"Oh, that's just…_perfect_," Harry grumbled. "Snitchgrass gave me a bottle during our Hawkbane session."

"Well, that was nice of her," Hermione said. "I think she really likes you." They continued walking over toward Hagrid's hut, until they reached their destination. Hermione knocked on the door. "Hagrid, are you here?"

"Yeah," they heard Hagrid say from behind the door. "Come on in, you two." As Hermione and Harry walked in, Hagrid said, "Why didn't ya come visit me sooner?"

"We just…_couldn't_," said Hermione. "You understand that, don't you?"

"It's that Hawkbane stuff, isn't it?" Hagrid said dejectedly. "I knew yer both very smart, so it's no surprise that people like Snitchgrass, Lewn, and Parenein noticed yer talent."

"I just wish it had been any other Hawkbane besides Parenein," Hermione said angrily. "He keeps trying to get a sneak peek of my knickers under my skirt."

"He's a dirty ol' man, an' I know it," Hagrid said. "He asked me if he could keep his extra _Playboys_ in here. I said 'no, get yer trash out of my home,' an' he left it anyway. And then he got indignant on me when I had a 'lil bonfire a couple o' days later." He shrugged. "I just don't understand people like that."

"Neither do I," said Hermione.

"Hagrid, do you know anything about splipberry nectar?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I know what it is. If you let it ferment for a couple o' months, it's one of the strongest drinks you can buy. It's even more potent than firewhiskey, and that's saying a lot. Firewhiskey can mess you up for hours…splipberry wine can knock you out for nearly a week."

"What about the _nectar_?" Harry asked, and he showed Hagrid the bottle. "Snitchgrass gave me some splipberry nectar at my session."

"Aw, the nectar won't hurt ya, Harry," said Hagrid. "It'll just make you concentrate better on everything for a couple of days. Well, it's _supposed _to do that. It's just a drink, though. No harm done. Why? You think Snitchgrass is out to kill you or something?"

"I really don't know," said Harry. "She's just so…I don't know…secretive."

"That's Snitchgrass for ya," said Hagrid. "She _always_ likes to keep stuff to herself. Everyone thinks she's up to something every once in a while, but then it turns out to be nothing serious. Don't let 'er bother you, Harry. Er…are you going to finish that nectar?"

"No." '_If it had been someone like McGonagall, Flitwick, or Skylarke that had given me this, I'd want to finish it,' _thought Harry.

"Can I have it, then? I really like splipberry wine, and all I'll need is to be a little patient before the nectar turns into wine."

"Yeah, sure," Harry handed Hagrid the nectar. "Just make sure it isn't tainted before you drink it. I really don't trust Snitch grass."

"There's nothin' to worry abou'," said Hagrid. "Snitchgrass ain't out to kill you."

Saturday was pretty fun, especially once Harry and Hermione visited Hagrid for the first time in a while. They met up with Ron and Ginny after that and spent a while in the library, where they found Atticus, Celia, and Josh. Before everyone knew it, it was dinnertime. Everyone was at the Hawkbane table in the usual cluster, except for Marcus. He was sitting as far away from Harry as possible. "Is this edible?" Rick asked Harry all of a sudden. On his plate was sushi.

"How should I know?" Harry said. "I don't even know what that is."

"It's sushi," said Hermione. "Yeah, Rick. You can eat that."

"Ugh," Rick said. "It's raw."

"Sushi _tends_ to be raw," Celia said sarcastically. "Honestly, for someone so clever, you can be really _stupid_ sometimes." Rick sunk down in his seat.

"Don't pick on my friend, Wells," Malfoy snapped.

"Nobody asked you to butt in, Malfoy," Celia retorted. "Hey, Josh, did you do your homework for Snape?"

"Honestly, Celia. It's the weekend. He didn't assign anything yesterday anyway!" Josh rolled his eyes.

"Aw…I almost got you, too," Celia said. "Oh well."

After dinner, Harry sat around the Gryffindor Common Room for a while. When the clock read that it was twenty minutes to midnight, he started walking toward Turret Thirteen, where he would have his first Afterlight Necromancy lesson. He saw that there was another boy that was his age inside the classroom as well. "Hello?" Harry said.

The boy turned around to face Harry. "Hi," he said flatly. He had his chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, and his eyes were hazel. Harry noticed that he was wearing a Slytherin's uniform. "I'm Blaise Zabini."

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Yeah, I knew who you were. You got Sorted the same year I did," said Blaise. "Did Professor Ahsimal ask if you'd be interested in Afterlight Necromancy?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Well, that means that we're going to be classmates," said Blaise, putting away a mirror he'd been viewing in. He was quite a good-looking fellow, but he seemed to be somewhat unhappy about something. "Are you interested in Necromancy too?"

"Yes, I am," Harry admitted. "Professor Ahsimal's a good teacher, and this subject is very appealing to me."

"Well, that's strange," said Blaise. "Most Gryffindors hate Necromancy because it's considered to be a Dark Art, but I can see why it would appeal to you." He raised an eyebrow and asked, "You're not like most Gryffindors, are you? Someone told me that the Sorting Hat almost put you in Slytherin until you begged it not to. Is that true?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry. "What about you?"

Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "The hat didn't say much to me…just that it was placing me in Slytherin. Sometimes I wonder why it did that…when I was a Third Year, Professor Snape said I'd have been a decent Ravenclaw."

"Are you friends with Draco Malfoy?" asked Harry.

"No," said Blaise. "Malfoy and his friends like to tease me…they think I'm gay."

"Are you?"

"No," Blaise said defensively. "I'm just a really sensitive person..."

"Ah, I see you two made it to our first Afterlight lesson," Ahsimal said as he came in. "Cassandra and Rhianna are supposed to be here, but since they're in Hogsmeade for the weekend, I won't count this against them. Besides, this isn't like a school course…I won't give you any assignments…except to hone your skills whenever you get the chance." He pulled his long, white hair back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. "Tonight, I'm going to show you what a Type A gore crow is like. I seriously doubt I'd show this to my Hawkbane Necromancy class because they're quite dangerous to a certain type of people. Harry, you and Blaise might have to watch out because Type A gore crows like to attack people who have almost faced Death, but love even more the taste of someone who was been brought back from Death, but not completely Resurrected." Blaise seemed to cling on to every word that came from Ahsimal's mouth. Ahsimal then pulled out a box that had three dead crows in it. "Actually, you can do this with any bird. I just prefer crows so I can be traditional, if you catch my drift."

Harry cringed as Ahsimal pulled out his wand and shouted, _"Resorantus!"_ He turned toward the students and said, "Okay, one of you give me the name of someone who died that you didn't like."

Blaise said, "Er…how about Sam McCallisten? I didn't like him too much."

"That will do perfectly, Zabini," Ahsimal said as he chanted the name, "_Sam McCallisten_." Then, before everyone, was a transparent apparition of Sam. Harry had forgotten how big that boy's Adam's apple had actually been. It was humongous.

Sam looked around the room and then asked, "What happened? I thought I was supposed to be dead."

"You _are_ dead, Sammy," said Ahsimal, showing off his teeth.

"Oh no! Anyone but _you_!" Sam shouted, pointing at Ahsimal. "You…you..."

"_Separatum!"_ Ahsimal shouted to silence the ghost. Sam's soul shattered into three fragments. Ahsimal tossed the three dead crows into the air. The three fragments jumped into the bird corpses, and then started to move. "And…voila! Type A gore crows." He then let out a short laugh and let the birds fly around the room. They tried to peck at Blaise and Harry for a moment, until Harry opened the Necromancy door. The gore crows headed straight for Turret Fifteen.

"Damn," said Ahsimal. "I know where they're heading, and I know that there's going to be a really unhappy teacher in a little bit. Oh well, nothing I can do to sustain them now…except turn them to dust. The spell for that is _terranecrosis_, okay? How about you two try that out?"

"_Terranecrosis!"_ shouted Blaise and Harry at the same time. The crows fell to the ground and turned into dust clouds. "Wow," said Harry. "This is some pretty dangerous stuff, Professor."

"Yes, it is," Ahsimal said, painting his long fingernails at his new desk. Harry noticed Ahsimal had selected a metallic silver color. After that, the pale professor moved on to playing with his rings, especially that really gaudy pewter one with the big piece of obsidian in the middle that was really beginning to make Harry curious. "Necromancy is extremely hazardous, and if you can harness the power of this Dark Art to your benefit, then you'll never have to worry about losing loved ones again. Afterlight is the best kept secret at Hogwarts, in my opinion, but I would like to keep it just that…a secret. Can I trust you and Potter to keep this secret, Zabini?"

"You can count on me, Professor Ahsimal," said Blaise, as he did a bow. His ponytail came undone, and soft, wavy hair flew everywhere on his shoulders.

"What about you, Potter? Can I trust you to keep this class private?"

"Sure," said Harry, taking a closer look at Ahsimal's classroom. He hadn't noticed the macabre beauty of the skeleton chandelier before. The first time he'd seen it, he'd found it not only disturbing, but absolutely _sick_ to use bodies as decoration. Now that he'd been in Necromancy for nearly half a semester, he felt he could really appreciate its sinister charm. It didn't look disgusting to him now; that chandelier was probably the most beautiful piece of art he had seen in a long time, now that he took the time to look at it better. Suddenly, a great horned owl flew through the open door with a letter and a small package in its talons. "It looks like you've got mail, Professor."

Ahsimal rushed over toward the owl, and took the message and parcel. "Thank you very much, Archimedes," he said to the owl, and fed it an owl treat. He put the small package on an end table, and read the letter. "I don't see why Morty insists on sending me stuff by owl. He's only two towers down from here, so he could always walk and tell me this private stuff up in person…"

He rolled his mauve eyes and cleaned his glasses a bit. "I think we're done for tonight, gentlemen. Please review what we covered during the timeframe of this course so you'll be prepared to advance to the next level. Next time, I'll expect _you_ to make Type A gore crows, understand?" Ahsimal showed Blaise and Harry to the door and then closed it. The last thing Harry saw before Ahsimal slammed was the pale, androgynous teacher reading the letter that Skylarke had sent him.

"How do you feel about Afterlight Necromancy right now?" Blaise asked Harry.

"I guess it's kind of okay," Harry admitted. "It would be pretty hard for Ahsimal to teach a boring class, don't you think?"

"I love Ahsimal's class," Blaise said. "I want to become either a Necromancer or an Exorcist once I graduate from Hogwarts. What about you?"

"I'd like to be an Auror," Harry admitted, and then showed Blaise the interim that Snitchgrass had given him that morning. "But I doubt I'll become one with grades like these."

Blaise flinched when he saw Harry's grades. "I thought your grades would be better than this. Your best classes are Defense Against the Dark Arts, Necromancy, and Charms. How _in the name of Merlin_ could you get a 'Dreadful' in Clairvoyancy! Lewn's the worst teacher I've ever had, except for that horrid Umbridge woman last year, and she doesn't do anything, really. I just sleep in her class and I'm getting an 'Exceeds Expectations.' If I actually _studied _in there a little, I think maybe I could get an 'Outstanding,' but I don't know…it seems like a waste to me. Can you tell me the point of Clairvoyancy? What is its purpose?"

"I guess to stare at Lewn's cute little figure," admitted Harry.

"_Little_?" Blaise asked. "The only thing little about Professor Lewn is her _waist_."

"Yeah," Harry said, thinking about that gorgeous, tall blonde. "I guess you're right." He talked to Blaise for a while longer, and then headed off toward the Gryffindor Tower.

"I'll see you in Astronomy, Foreign Magic, Charms, or Manipulations on Monday, okay?"

Harry waved goodbye to Blaise and smiled to himself. '_I think I've made a new friend_.'

Harry slept in on Sunday, and woke up around two in the afternoon. He practiced Quidditch with the Hawkbane Team and Phoebus until five o' clock, had dinner, stayed up in the Gryffindor Tower for a while, and finally went to sleep. He had the same dream he'd gotten Thursday and Friday night…the one with Leir in it. Monday was no different, except there was no dream.

Surprisingly, Harry was the first person up on Tuesday in the Sixth Year boys' Gryffindor dormitory. He had his books ready, and he decided that it would be nice to have a bit of time without anyone bothering him before breakfast. He walked out of his dormitory, and walked into the Common Room, to find that Atticus was already down there, in his wheelchair. "Hello, Atticus," Harry said.

Atticus stopped writing his letter and looked up to see Harry. "Hi," he said. "Isn't this a surprise? You're usually one of the last people to wake up on a school day." He smiled and said, "Happy November 4th."

"What's so happy about it?" Harry snapped.

"Oh, nothing in particular," said Atticus. "It just so happens to be my birthday."

"Well, Happy Birthday, Atticus," Harry said. "Sorry, I didn't know that."

"Nah, it's okay," Atticus said, chuckling. He sealed his letter and then put it in his bag. "I'm going to need to go to the Owlery before breakfast. Want to come with me?"

"I think I'll pass," Harry said. "I just wanted to have a bit of alone time before everyone else gets up."

"Oh," said Atticus, shrugging his shoulders and wheeling off. "Suit yourself."

Half an hour later, Harry rushed off toward the Great Hall for breakfast. His first class of the day was Charms with Flitwick. It was pleasant, like normal. After that, he had Foreign Magic with Ebonyste. Surprisingly, it was a rather boring lesson that day. The only thing good about Ebonyste's lesson was the part when he had to take a bathroom break, which lasted nearly half an hour, for some odd reason. Ebonyste _swore _that he was just having trouble with the toilet, but that long absence gave Harry the perfect chance to introduce Ron and Hermione to Blaise. After his Foreign Magic lesson, that happened to be about Scotland and the Loch Ness sea monster, the thing Harry had been dreading for four days was finally there…his first Manipulations Class with Constanza Quirrell.

He sat down in his seat, but looked around the room. None of Wolfgang's old stuff was in the room anymore. The floor had a cedar wood finish, and the walls had been painted jade green. However, the green walls were mostly covered up with humongous antique mirrors. The window had been replaced with a stained glass one. Where Wolfgang's Quidditch posters had been, there were now optical illusion paintings, put in antique frames. There was a particular one that looked like a staircase that never seemed to end. The room smelled like eucalyptus and aloe…it didn't take Harry long to find the incense burner. On the new cedar wood desk, there were tons of eucalyptus-scented candles burning, and a small framed photograph of the late Professor Quirrell. Globes of stained glass were floating above the ceiling, along with glowing crystals. Harry noticed there was an enormous chunk of pyrite on the desk as well. '_It's probably a paperweight_,' he thought. At that moment, the door creaked open. Harry turned, expecting to see a yale, but it was only Professor Constanza Quirrell. She wasn't wearing a hood, like in Harry's dream; instead, she had her mousy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had on some rather colorful robes; they looked like something _Ahsimal_ would wear.

"Hello and welcome to Manipulations. I'm your new teacher, Professor Quirrell. If anyone in here has the bright idea to pass notes or talk in my class…I'll know because I have eyes in the back of my head."She stood up in front of the entire class and said, "Okay, maybe not literally, but I _will_ find out of you misbehave in here." She stroked the piece of pyrite and said, "You had that five-foot essay that Professor Leir assigned on Manipulating inanimate objects. Have you finished it yet? They're due _today_."

Everyone groaned, except for a few people. Cassandra, Hermione, Atticus, Celia, Josh, Marcus, Isis, and Rick pulled out their five-foot long essays for Mrs. Quirrell to take up. "Excellent. I'm glad to see that not _everyone_ in here is a slacker." She looked at everyone else. "What are you waiting for? Where are your essays?" Malfoy pulled his out and bit his lip. "Malfoy, do you know how long this is?"

"I…I couldn't do five feet..."

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Quirrell said. "You did four and a half feet, Malfoy. That's _not_ what the teacher that assigned the essay to you asked for, so therefore you're automatically getting a 'T.'"

"But, Professor..."

"Don't _but Professor_ me, Malfoy. You didn't complete the assignment. The best I can give you in an 'Incomplete.' Do you understand?" Harry couldn't help but laugh at Malfoy getting told off. Malfoy sunk in his seat and looked absolutely miserable. "Fallowin's younger than anyone else in here, and _he_ managed to complete the assignment."

"Yeah, but Rick's..."

"He's…what? Smarter than you, Malfoy?" Malfoy squirmed, and now a lot of the students that didn't like him were bursting out with laughter. Mrs. Quirrell collected a few more essays, and finally came toward Harry. "Okay, Potter…let me have your essay." Harry handed it over; it was five feet, just like Wolfe had requested. "You met the requirements, but your writing should be so much smoother than this. I'm going to give you an 'A,' because it's _obvious_ you did the bare minimum; it's hardly acceptable." Harry gritted his teeth. '_I spent a lot of my spare time to complete that damn essay…who is she to tell me that I did the 'bare minimum' or not? How would she know?'_ "Potter, is something wrong with you?"

"No," Harry said angrily. "I put a lot of time and effort into that." Mrs. Quirrell outstretched her hand. "What now?"

"May I see your research?" Mrs. Quirrell said in a falsely sweet voice.

"I…" Harry began. He looked around the room, trying to get some help. None of the other Hawkbane students gave any. "I don't…have…"

"You don't have it?" Mrs. Quirrell said suspiciously. "Very well; I'll let it slide this time for _everyone_. It seems the only people who kept a list of resources were Snape, Shadow, Apathy, Granger, Turpin, Goldman, and Wells. In the future, if I am to assign you something, I will expect you to keep a list of your resources. I will also want to see your notes." She read something off a piece of parchment and then said, "You just finished inanimate objects, am I correct?" Everyone nodded. "Okay…then I know where we are to begin today. We'll begin our unit on Botanical Manipulation. This will last us at least until the middle of the month. At the latest, we'll finish this unit sometime around the beginning of December." She lowered her reading glasses and said, "Next year, when you'll be dealing with your N.E.W.T.s, it's pretty safe to say that Botanicals will be on your Manipulations exam." Her eyes narrowed at the class for a moment, and then she touched the piece of pyrite again. "Does anyone have any questions for me before we begin?"

"I've got one," said Marcus. "What do you want us to call you?"

"_Professor Quirrell_ will do just fine," Mrs. Quirrell said calmly.

"But, if we do that…we'll get you mixed up with our old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Marcus argued.

"Does this look like a debate team to you, Cantarus?" snapped Mrs. Quirrell. There was a bit of red coming up in her cheeks.

"Well, no, but..."

"I don't want to start an argument with a student. I see the point you're trying to make, so how about I just let all of you call me by my former last name?" Mrs. Quirrell let out a catlike yawn and then said, "Feel free to call me _Professor Loxias_.I answer to _Stanzi_ too, because that has been my nickname for ages."

Harry raised his hand. "Okay, _Stanzi_. I've got a question."

"Fire away," _Professor Loxias_ said flatly. She was clearly not very thrilled to have Harry as a student. "Potter, what is on your mind?"

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Loxias's eyes widened, and then she laughed. "Oh, I'm here to teach, of course. Why else would I..."

"No…_really_, why are you here?"

"_THAT_ IS THE REASON I AM HERE!" she snarled, her whole face turning a pink color. "I do not need to explain myself any more than _that_ to anybody!" Cassandra tapped Harry's shoulder, and handed him a note from Atticus. On the note were the words '**even the prettiest roses have their thorns, don****'t you agree?****'** Harry put it in his pocket, hoping that Loxias didn't see it. "Potter, what did you just put away?"

"Nothing, Stanzi," Harry said in a falsely sweet voice.

"No, I saw you put something in your back pocket. Hand it to me, _now_." Harry defiantly did so, and Loxias read it aloud to the class. "Hm…there's quite a poet in here somewhere. I fully understand the message, though." She rubbed the pyrite _again_, and then said, "Okay, a few more questions, and then we'll begin today's lesson." She saw Hermione's hand up. "Yes, Granger; what is it?"

"Professor Loxias, I've got a few questions, actually," said Hermione. "The first one is…why is that piece of pyrite on your desk and why do you keep on touching it?"

"Pyrite wards off negativity," Loxias said quickly.

"I've also got a few questions about you and your husband, Professor Quirrell..."

"You may ask me _personal_ stuff after class, Granger. I'll not waste a class period about my life and my dead husband's." Loxias then pulled out an oak sapling. "The first chapter in your Botanical Manipulations unit says that the oak is the ideal place to begin when it comes to this type of Manipulation. I borrowed this from Professor Sprout, and she expects to get it back. I daresay I don't want to go back on my word, understand?"

"Yes, Professor Loxias," the class said loudly.

"Good; glad to see I got my point across to you." She put the tiny tree on a pedestal that was in the center of the room. "We're going to manipulate this plant today. We all know that it is very early November, and it's clearly Autumn. Therefore, we will be making this little tree sprout new leaves today. You'll be bamboozling it into thinking it's around the Vernal Equinox in a moment." Her eyes narrowed again, and then she pointed a finger at Cassandra. "_You_," she said flatly.

"Me," Cassandra said, a bit confused as to why she'd been called out. "What about me?"

"You finished the chapter already, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," she said. "But so did Rhianna and Celia."

"Since you finished, Snape, how about you get in front of the class and puzzle the plant?"

"Okay, Professor," said Cassandra. "Whatever." She pulled out her wand and then shouted, "_Magara_ _Confundus!_" Whatever leaves the oak had left fell to the ground, and then it sprouted new, green ones. "Voila—you've got one confused miniature oak tree."

After Cassandra did it in front of the whole Hawkbane class, everyone was expected to finish the chapter and repeat the same results with the saplings Loxias gave everyone to work on. After trying for nearly ten minutes, Harry got the hang of it. Hermione, Josh, and Celia got it right the first time. Rhianna and Cassandra were having races to see who could manipulate their oak saplings faster. Ron didn't succeed in making his oak grow leaves…all he achieved was making it's already dead leaves turn a very bright purple.

"Weasley, what happened to your tree?" asked Loxia.

"Er…it looks like the leaves turned purple," Ron said. "That's not right, is it?"

"No, it's not," Loxias said coldly. "However, I'll give you an 'Acceptable,' because you _did_ trigger a response from your oak." She walked around the room some more and said, "Granger, nice job…I think your leaves are probably the greenest in here."

"Thank you, Professor Loxias," said Hermione, beaming. The next thing she did was scream because Loxias's eyes were glowing a pale lavender color, and her hair turned a golden blonde. "Professor Loxias? _Professor Loxias!_" Loxias's hair seemed to bounce as if there was a gale blowing it. A small whirlwind of papers surrounded her, and then complete chaos was brought about in the classroom. Books were falling off of shelves, the ground seemed to shake beneath them, and the glass globes that had been there for decoration fell to the ground and shattered. Harry could have sworn he saw something that looked like red smoke jumped out of each globe, ran around the room for a while, and then disappeared. Finally, the damage ceased, and Loxias returned to looking like her typical self. However, her skin now appeared as white as Ahsimal's, and there were some very dark rings underneath her eyes.

"Professor, you might want to look at yourself. You're scary," said Josh. "Such a freak shouldn't teach a class…_especially _a Hawkbane class!" Loxias looked in one of the mirrors, and then rushed out of the room in utter panic. It was all so sudden, that even Harry was taken by surprise when Loxias jumped up and sprinted out the door. Five minutes later, the bell rang.

Harry was glad the class was over. He was convinced that Constanza Loxias-Quirrell was far from being a normal person. '_She's probably far from being completely sane, too_,' he thought. "Aren't you glad _that's_ over?" he asked Ron and Hermione. They both nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," said Ron. "That woman is _spooky_."

"I enjoyed her class today, and I don't see what you two are complaining about," said Hermione. "I see a lot of potential in Professor Loxias. She seemed nice enough to me."

"It's just kind of weird that she's letting us use her maiden name..."

"Not at all, Harry," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. "She did that so we wouldn't confuse her with Professor Quirrell."

"She's out to get me," Harry grumbled. "Did you see the way she kept egging me on?"

"Did _I _see the way she was provoking _you_?" Malfoy said, coming up to the group. He had Rick and Marcus with him. "That damn Professor Loxias embarrassed me in front of everyone."

"I was a bit embarrassed, too," admitted Rick. "She made me look like a prodigy."

"Hey, at least she didn't berate you," Malfoy snarled at his Fourth Year friend. Rick walked off toward his next class and didn't look back. "Potter, what exactly does she have against _you_?"

"I killed Quirrell, remember?" Harry snapped at Malfoy. "Just leave me alone."

"Hey, I can't do that," Malfoy said, smiling. "What are enemies for, anyway?" Harry groaned, and then pulled out his wand. "Hey, now what are you going to do that for?"

"Get out of my sight," Harry snapped. "I'm _not_ in the mood to deal with you."

Marcus tapped Malfoy's shoulder. "Er…Draco, I think we should leave him alone. He's nutters, you know, _and_ he thinks my mum and dad are Death Eaters."

"Not as nutters as _Loxias_," Malfoy hissed at Marcus. "But you're right. Maybe we _should_ leave Harry Crackpot alone." He walked off, and Marcus accompanied him. Neither one of them looked back either.

"Don't worry about them," said Rhianna, catching up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. With her was Cassandra. She had a book in her hand that was called Dark Arts Miscellany by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. '_I've seen a lot of that woman's books around Hogwarts since I viewed that death memory of Sebastian's_,' thought Harry. '_Dr. Hemlock must be popular with the Slytherins_.'

"How was your weekend at Cassandra's?" Harry asked curiously. He wondered what Cassandra's home life was like, but he didn't want to sound too nosy.

"Well, I got to meet Teiresias," said Rhianna. "Nice kid, really…especially once you strike up a conversation with him."

"Who is Teiresias?" asked Hermione.

"My younger brother," said Cassandra. "He's very shrewd for a nine-year-old."

"I thought you said he was going to be a First Year this coming up year," Harry argued.

"I did," Cassandra said flatly. "Teiresias is going to start a year _early_."

"How about Cassandra's parents; what were they like?" asked Hermione.

"A nightmare," said Rhianna. "They were nice to Teiresias and us—I think those two might actually _worship_ Cassandra and Teiresias; you'd have to see it to believe it—but they'd raise Hell with each other. Claudius gave Lydia a sprained ankle and a black eye. Lydia gave him a broken nose. The war is a constant thing, as far as Teiresias told us."

"I'll be surprised if they haven't divorced already by the time Christmas comes around," Cassandra said sadly. "My parents really hate each other, and I think Couples' Therapy was nothing more than just a big joke." She looked pretty dejected by this news, and then asked Harry, "Have you seen my black book anywhere?"

"Er…what black book?" Ron asked jumpily.

"The black book you guys see me writing in all the time?" Cassandra said, giving Ron the eyebrow of confusion. "I've _got_ to have it back…I'm afraid it might have landed in the wrong hands, because I can't find it anywhere."

"I've got it," Harry admitted as he pulled it out of his bag, as well as the two Telemiths that he had gotten from Skylarke and Cassandra. "I found it before the Halloween masquerade. I was going to return it afterwards, but you left with your parents…" He looked at the blood red glass balls and sighed. '_I never looked in those_,' he thought, remembering they had been in his bookbag for quite some time. '_It must have slipped my mind_.'

"Thanks," Cassandra said dryly, checking her book to see if anything was missing. She even shook it…nothing came out. She got a very accusatory look on her face after nothing fell out of the pages. "Er…Harry, there was a small notepad with a seven-point star on it that was in here as well. I borrowed that from Professor Skylarke, and I'm sure that he won't be happy if I report it missing." Harry pulled the notepad out of his pocket and handed it to Cassandra as well. She smiled blandly and then pointed at a familiar trio. "Hey, look who it is!" she said. "Celia, Josh, Atticus!"

Atticus, Josh, and Celia waved and then walked over toward the group. "Hello everybody," Celia said. Her hair was in a very sloppy ponytail and she was a bit on the sweaty side. Ron still looked at her longingly, nonetheless. "I can't believe that Quirrell's wife volunteered to teach Manipulations. It was really nice of her to back down from her job as a Manipulator to do that." She laughed a bit and said, "I had a little conversation with her after class. She's so sweet."

"She's freakier than Cassandra," Josh said, "and that's saying a lot. Did you see what she did around the end of the class? That's not normal, not even in the wizarding world."

"Professor Flitwick told me that she's got a ton of problems," said Celia. "I really feel sorry for her; she's such a nice lady. I even heard the other teachers say that she's not even thirty-five…and she's already stuck with a dead husband and a ten-year-old son."

"That woman has a _child_!" Hermione squeaked. "You mean, she…?"

"Yeah, it seems that Quirrell and Loxias have a son named Cecil that's going to attend Hogwarts next year," Celia let out a very heavy sigh. "It's a real pity I'll be at LéAvíans next year since I'm graduating. If what Loxias was saying was the truth, then I'd love to meet Cecil." She looked at her Sixth Year friends and groaned. "You're all so lucky to have another year here!"

"Fortunately for us, we're not _lucky_," Atticus teased. "Oy, Celia! I didn't know you were going to LéAvíans _too_!" He then turned toward Josh. "Where will you be attending college, Josh?"

"I'm heading over to America after this year," Josh admitted. He then beamed, showing off his sparkling white teeth. Rhianna wasn't impressed one bit. "I got a full scholarship to Aevumis…in _Salem_! Witch Weekly is paying for the airplane tickets, too." Atticus and Celia both cheered for their friend, and then they rushed off toward the infirmary.

"Er…Cassandra," Rhianna said, elbowing her friend. She looked a bit shocked.

"What is it?" asked Cassandra, raising an eyebrow at her friend's odd behavior. "Go on; tell me…I want to know what's on your mind."

"Your brother comes to Hogwarts next year, right?"

"Yeah, he'll be here next year…so what?" Cassandra seemed to not understand what Rhianna was trying to point out.

"Teiresias is probably going to meet Cecil," Rhianna said flatly. Cassandra really didn't seem too thrilled to hear that. She grabbed Rhianna by the left wrist, and pulled her behind her. They both rushed off toward the library…_again_.

"I wonder what's wrong with everybody," Ron said. "Is it just me, or is everyone trying to dodge us?"

"We're not going to dodge you," said two voices. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned around to see a Third Year girl in Ravenclaw attire, and a Sixth Year girl in Hufflepuff attire. Both of them were very pretty with viridian eyes, gorgeous bodies, and straight auburn hair….it was obvious that they were sisters. The older girl also had a very nice bust, yet the two girls were both very attractive. "Actually, we've been trying to track you three down for quite a while," said the Ravenclaw girl. "My name is Cora Fenrir, and this is my sister Naomi." She walked up to Hermione and shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Granger. I've heard so much about you, and I really wanted to meet you up in person." Cora also cast a very alluring glance at Ron and Harry. "And of course I've heard about Ron Weasley _and_ Harry Potter, too; how do you guys do?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "You've got to pardon my kid sister; she's such a flirt." She laughed and then said, "Go on, Cora…want to tell them the news?"

"_You_ tell them, bigmouth!" Cora snarled. "You're the one that's recognized, not me!"

Naomi let out a sigh of exasperation. "Very well, sourpuss…Sam McCallisten from Hufflepuff was in the Hawkbane program, but he died. I'm taking his place." She pulled out her new Hawkbane card and beamed. "This makes us classmates, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, staring at this auburn beauty. _She's perfect_, he couldn't help but think. '_I bet she's really smart, too…just like Celia, Cassandra, and Hermione_.' He didn't have a crush on her, but Naomi Fenrir definitely had Harry in lust.

"Oh, did you hear the _other _news?" Cora blurted. "Professor Loxias was made part of the Hawkbane society today! I'm so happy for her; she's so sweet."

'_Oh no…that can't be right_,' thought Harry. '_She just got here. There is no way that her résumé could be better than Skylarke's_…'"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive; she got notified that she'd become a Hawkbane during the middle of my sister's class," Naomi said smoothly. "Oh, and some other news..."

"There's _more_!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "Well, out with it!"

"Cora's dating Rick Fallowin," Naomi said between giggles. Cora looked like she wanted to beat Naomi to a pulp. "Can any of you tell me where I can find Celia Wells and her crowd?"

"They're visiting someone in the infirmary, I think," Harry said. "They walked off that way."

"Okay," Naomi said sweetly. "Thank you!" She rushed off, her slim hips shaking seductively with each step she ran. Both Ron and Harry couldn't help but stare at her lovely body. She soon came back with Celia, Josh, and Atticus.

Cora was still there, with a very angry look on her pretty face. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation when Cassandra Snape had been over here, Harry. Is it true that she's got a little brother that's going to be a First Year next year?"

"Yes, it's true," Hermione answered Cora instead of Harry. "His name is Teiresias, and that's about as far as I know about Cassandra's mysterious sibling."

"Well, I've got a little sister named Marpessa that's going to be a First Year next year. I'm sure she'll meet Teiresias Snape _and_ Cecil Quirrell soon enough. Some of her friends like Michael Silverman, Atreus Miller, Ivy Townsend, Trixie Prescott, Albert Moon—y'know, _that_ crowd—will be attending Hogwarts too." Cora let out a heavy yawn. "I can tell you now; it'll be a much more interesting year than this one."

"Why do you say that?" another voice said. Harry looked behind him to see that it was Rick Fallowin. He was surprised to see that Malfoy was nowhere to be found. "People are dying wherever you look, and others are leaving the school with no intentions of returning…it kind of reminds me of those stories Draco told me about the Chamber of Secrets four years ago. Death can attract all sorts of attention. As a Slytherin, I should know." He then saw Cora and gave her a weak smile. "Hello, Cora; I didn't see you there."

"Hi, Rick," she said sweetly. She had gotten out of her crabby mood as soon as she saw Rick. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much…just finishing up an essay Snape assigned on Monday." Rick then looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Do you guys already know Cora Fenrir, my girlfriend?"

"No, we didn't," Ron said, and then gave Rick the thumbs up. "She's cute, Rick; nice catch."

"Just make sure you respect Cora, okay?" Hermione said. "Girls never want to date guys that will take advantage of them, you know."

"I'm not a jerk," Rick said. "Cora can clarify that if you don't believe me." He smiled at his girlfriend and then held her hand in his. "I'd never hurt her. I'd rather die than cause Cora harm." Cora beamed, and then walked off with Rick. She even gave Rick a kiss on the cheek and mouthed the words _I love you_.

"Aw! That's so cute!" shouted Josh, Atticus, Naomi, and Celia. "Look at Fallowin and Fenrir, everyone…such a cute couple!" Cora and Rick ran for it after that. It was clear that they didn't want to attract any attention. They were _both_ red in the face. "That was so sweet," Celia said, sighing sadly. "I want a boyfriend like that."

"Like _Rick_?" Josh asked, confused. "You mean you want a scrawny, gangly boyfriend with big ears and a humongous mole right by his nose when you could always go out with me instead? Come on, admit it…I'm sexier than Rick."

"I didn't mean I liked Rick _in that way_," Celia snapped at Josh. "I _meant_ that I don't want to date someone who's stuck on himself. I don't want to _ever_ date somebody like Gilderoy Lockhart or, let's see…who else is narcissistic and has a big ego? Ah! I know…_Josh Goldman_!" Josh didn't look too happy with Celia for that last comment.

"Josh, I think you're sexy," said Naomi in her silky voice.

"Yeah," Josh said, flexing his muscles, "You and every other witch at Hogwarts…even the _teachers_ know I'm gorgeous."

"You see?" Celia grumbled. "It's that _attitude_ of yours that makes me less attracted to you." Harry and Ron just watched as Celia told Josh off in front of them. She then turned toward Ron and said, "You're not fully stuck on yourself, are you?"

"Er…I don't think so," Ron said, confused.

Celia smiled, laughed, and then winked at Ron. "You're sweet," she said. "You'll find a girl either this year or next and will make her very happy."

"Actually, Celia," Ron said, obviously not caring anymore if Josh was in his presence. "I like you, and I was wondering if you would like to…go out with me?"

"Are you kidding?" Celia said, laughing. Ron looked pretty dejected by this flat-out denial. "Of course I'd like that!"

"You _would_!" Ron exclaimed. Harry could tell his friend hadn't believed his ears. He rushed over there and embraced Celia.

Just to see what Josh was doing, Harry looked to his right. "Are you alright, Josh?"

Josh had his fists clenched, and his handsome face had gotten all red. There were misty tears coming from his eyes, but a wrathful look was spread everywhere. "You just made a _bad_ mistake, Celia," he snapped. "I could have been your dream come true…not this _plebeian_!" When Celia just rolled her eyes at him, Josh shouted, "NAOMI! It's time we leave."

"I'm not going with you," Naomi said flatly. "You may be sexier, but I like Atticus better." Atticus looked every bit as surprised as Ron had about a minute ago. "Atticus, would you like to go out with me?"

"_Would I_?" Atticus repeated. "You know the answer to that question is _Hell yeah_, Naomi!" He wheeled over toward Naomi and smiled.

Now this was getting a bit too much for Harry…he was jealous of Ron and Atticus. '_Atticus got asked out by a gorgeous Hufflepuff, Rick's got a cute little girlfriend that thinks the world of him, and Ron's going to start dating the girl he had a crush on. And I couldn't finish a single date with Cho without screwing everything up. This really sucks_.' Without so much as saying where he was going, he left his friends. '_They're all lovey-dovey idiots.' _It was about dinnertime, but for some odd reason, he felt like he might find something if he went down "Turret Row," the corridor that circled the entire school and lead to each of the fifteen turrets. Besides, he wasn't hungry. Just to kill some time, he did as his instincts told him to do. After walking for quite a while, he saw something sparkling in a wastebasket. '_Now, what is that?'_ He peered over to get a closer look, and then gasped with realization. '_That's got to be Skylarke's missing locket!'_ After checking to see if anyone was around, and nobody was in sight, Harry pulled the locket out of the garbage and opened it. A sad-sounding melody played as Harry viewed the photo inside the locket. On one side was a picture of Fallowin and Snape as students, holding up their wands. In the other picture was a photo of a younger Skylarke with Ahsimal. There were three other people who had their pictures in the locket, too. Harry recognized one as Cassandra's mother. Another was a squat man with big ears, thick glasses, and an enormous Adam's apple, but Celia had shown Harry a picture of this chap before; it was Dr. Thaddeus McCallisten, Sam McCallisten's dad. Dr. McCallisten was also Celia's personal Healer…the one that had recommended Mood Drops as medication. There was a very friendly-looking young woman in jeans and a t-shirt, but Harry had never seen someone that looked like that before. '_Maybe I'll ask Skylarke about this locket when I return it to him_.'

Harry continued walking down the halls alone, but then saw Cassandra coming toward him, from the direction of Turret Seven. "Were you up in the Aerie again?" he asked her.

"What do you think?" Cassandra said bitterly. "Of course I was, and the whole time, I wasn't disturbed during my Communing Session. Thanks to Sebastian, I…I found out who Mortius is pretending to be." Harry could see that Cassandra also had a black eye.

"You did?" Harry asked. '_I know who Mortius is, but Cassandra needs to know, too_.' "Well, who do you think it is?"

"_Think_! I _know_ that Mortius has been pretending to be my uncle for a few years. So, that means I've spent a large portion of my Hogwarts life living with a complete stranger…a _Slayer_; the type of person who wants to destroy my kind and leave none behind. If this keeps up, I'll wind up dead, with no passage back. Does this mean that the real Severus is…is he…" Cassandra's eyes got a bit misty, but she wiped the tears away very quickly. "You didn't see that," she said flatly. "You did _not_ see me cry."

"Sure, I didn't," Harry said sarcastically. '_No wonder everyone thinks she's so creepy_.' "By the way, your uncle's not dead..."

"Oh, really?" Cassandra didn't sound so reassured. "Then, where is he?"

"Azkaban," said Harry. "Mortius did the Laconus Curse on him, so he looks like Mortius, and Mortius looks like him."

"Why, oh why, didn't I realize that it was Mortius up until now!" Cassandra was quite upset by this. "If he's been there for so long, why hasn't he killed me already?"

"He needs you," Harry said. "He also needs Celia, Atticus, and me to complete some sort of ritual to help Voldemort. I overheard him talking to Ebonyste."

"Damn," Cassandra said. "Here I was, thinking that I was an insignificant person."

"He needs your mirror, and vampire's elixir, whatever that is."

"Vampire's elixir is just a fancy way of saying 'vampire blood,' Harry," said Cassandra. "It's very similar to the blood of a unicorn, because it can heal most things…if your will is strong enough. Hey, wait…Darius could be in jeopardy, too, couldn't he?"

"It's possible that Ahsimal might be in trouble," Harry said. "The Ministry of Magic suspects him for Lupin's murder more than they thought Snape was." He got quite angered by that thought. "When I find out who murdered Lupin, I'll kill him. No, I am _not_ being melodramatic. I'll kill him, or die in the process."

"Talking about death isn't a good idea," Cassandra said. "Especially if you're still human." She leaned over toward Harry and said, "You know, if you'd like to be made a vampire, it could easily be arranged." When Harry glared at her, Cassandra let out a forced laugh. "It's not like I'm threatening to bite you or anything. I was just telling you that if you'd agree to it, I'd change you into a vampire."

"Well, I don't want to be one," Harry said flatly. "Where did you get the crazy idea that I wanted that?"

"I don't know," Cassandra said, looking down. "It's just…it really sucks being the only one in the school besides Darius. The two of us really have to look out for each other. I even hope that one day…" she smiled a bit and let out a very airy laugh. "No, it's too embarrassing to say out loud…"

Harry was a bit confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I hope that one day Darius will propose marriage to me." Cassandra burst out in laughter. "I can't believe I told you that! I love that man with a fiery passion, you know."

'_Damn, even Cassandra's talking about love, even if it _**_is_**_ one-sided at present_,' Harry thought miserably. '_I've got to find someone who's _**_not_**_ thinking about getting a boyfriend or girlfriend…I know! What about Blaise?'_ Harry then decided to find his new friend he had made in Afterlight Necromancy, but he was just dying to know, "Er…Cassandra, are you sure you want to have a relationship with a teacher?"

"Darius is the only other one of my kind that I could actually date without being perverted _that I know_," Cassandra said. "I'm afraid that someone who isn't a vampire might treat me like a monster once they find out. Who knows…they might end up stuttering like Quirrell. A vampire caused that trauma, you know."

"Loxias said that the vampire's name was Lawrence Von Dorian."

"When did you talk to Loxias about that?" Cassandra asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Halloween Masquerade, I think," said Harry. "It was when I first met her."

"She said Lawrence _Von Dorian_, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "That's right; the name was Lawrence Von Dorian. Why do you need to know?"

"My _uncle_ on my mum's side is Lawrence Von Dorian. My mum is _Lydia_ _Von Dorian_, Harry," said Cassandra. She then looked at her watch. "I need to meet Rhianna and Luna in the empty Tarot classroom right now, so it's pretty safe to say I've got to go. I'll see you in Astronomy with Sinistra later, okay?"

"Sure, see you there," said Harry as he and Cassandra went their separate ways. '_Why does she always seem so distant? It's almost as if Cassandra expects everyone to strike her down_.'

Harry walked down Turret Row farther and farther, until he saw that Ebonyste was casually striding down the hall as well, walking past Turret Fourteen...the Hypnosis tower. He decided to follow Ebonyste. '_I wonder if he's going to talk to Mortius again_,' he thought curiously. That might have proven to be interesting, but it wasn't what Ebonyste was doing. Harry was very confused…right outside Cyanis's turret (Fourteen), glowing in the all-too-familiar emerald green, was the Dark Mark. Ebonyste stopped to look at it, wrote something down on a piece of paper, and then started walking over toward Turret Eight, which was the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. '_Oh no_,' Harry thought suddenly, '_Nezura's the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher_!' He watched Ebonyste very closely as he walked down Turret Row. The long-eared professor stopped right in front of Nezura's classroom door and slipped a letter under her doorstep. Suddenly, Nezura opened up the door. "Er…hello, Mitzi," Ebonyste said very quickly. "Having a nice after-school break today?"

"What do you want, Adonis?" Nezura asked, sounding quite suspicious of Ebonyste.

"Er…nothing! Nothing at all!" Ebonyste sounded very jumpy, as if he was trying to dodge a certain subject. He handed Nezura something in a plastic bag. Harry had to squint to see what it was, and was about to vomit when he saw what was in there…a severed hand, pretty decomposed. "I found this in Skylarke's room. You know that I'm Clairvoyant, too, right?"

"I know that. What's your point, Don? I don't have all day, you know," Nezura said.

"I'm sure that this might help you out with your search for that murderer that's supposedly inside the school this very moment. That hand belongs to Lupin." Ebonyste sounded quite sure of that. "If you don't believe me, go talk to another Clairvoyant. There are about five others in the school, I believe."

"Don't you think an Auror would know that?" Nezura snapped. "Get out of my way, Adonis. I'm going to ask Claire about this hand."

"You go do that, then," Ebonyste said coolly. He then walked off into the shadows. Harry didn't see him come back in his direction. Nezura walked off toward Turret Two, but left her door open. The letter was still on the floor.

Harry kept on walking, and then he saw Ahsimal was on the ground in pain, a wooden stake sticking out of his chest. He looked like he was hurting pretty badly; had Ahsimal been human, that stab probably would have killed him in an instant. Before Harry could rush over there to help the Necromancy Master, Skylarke appeared out of the shadows and helped Ahsimal up and pulled the entire stake out in one quick, strong motion. "How did you manage to get stabbed like that?" he asked in a very interested tone. "Granger didn't like nine out of ten or something?"

Ahsimal scowled. "Oh, shut up, Morty. I'm going to the infirmary, and then I'm going to go round up some friends of ours to help me do something. Are you coming or not?"

"To bust Aurelius out of Azkaban? Are you mad, Darius?" Skylarke said. "Of course I'm going, but remember…Severus is in there as well. We've got to get him out, too."

"We should have done this a long time ago, before things got this bad. I've got a plan, though," Ahsimal looked quite sure of himself, even though his vampire Elixir was bleeding out of him like a small river. He shivered in pain.

"And that would be...?" Skylarke trailed off. "…well? I'm waiting! What's your plan?"

"I must destroy our adversaries before they get too much more in our way." Ahsimal looked quite angry at this point. "They've stalled us so far and even tried to kill me once or twice this year. Morty, you're in danger, too. Doesn't Potter trust you?"

"Well, yes he does, but..."

"But nothing, Morty. Make sure he doesn't think we're evil; it's important, remember?"

"Of course I remember why it's crucial, Darius, but, still…surely there's another way besides taking the lives of others. Death is quite final if you don't have a Necromancer."

"There's no other way," Ahsimal said, walking off with Skylarke. "Aurelius Fallowin and Severus Snape get liberated from Azkaban tomorrow night…and someone is going to pay for doing this to me."

"When are you going to dish out the punishment? Tomorrow night?"

"Maybe …maybe not…it all depends."

"Loxias…she's probably a threat to our cause."

"Constanza would be wise to keep out of our business." Ahsimal then winced in pain. "Can we head off to the infirmary _now_? This wound is killing me." Skylarke let Ahsimal lean on his shoulder for support as they walked off.

Harry couldn't believe what he had just heard…were Skylarke and Ahsimal both active Death Eaters? Who were they talking about? About Aurelius Fallowin…was he innocent—like Skylarke claimed—or was he really a mass murderer? His mind was racing as he started rushing over toward the Astronomy Tower, Turret Ten. Professor Sinistra wanted _everyone_ to be punctual for her lessons, after all. Harry would absolutely hate to keep _her_ waiting.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen:

The Second Hawkbane Murder

Astronomy was just about as interesting as usual. Harry didn't care too much for the subject, but it was obvious that Naomi loved every moment of it. "The heavens are so pretty," she said. "Ah…I want to be like Professor Sinistra someday. She knows so much about the celestial realm, and really is devoted to her work. I can tell that this is what I want to do for a profession."

"You're star crazy," Ron said flatly.

"Yes, I am!" Naomi squealed, looking through her telescope again. "Ah! That must be Neptune!" She raised her hand very high up. "Professor Sinistra, is that _Neptune_ I'm seeing?"

Sinistra walked over there and nodded. "Yes, that's Neptune. You can see Triton on its left if you focus a bit harder."

"I love this class," Naomi cooed. "I could do this forever."

"I know you could," Sinistra said icily. "You're the one that wants to take over after I retire, right? With your grades in here, I can see that as an actual possibility one of these days."

"Really?" Naomi was ecstatic now. "Professor Sinistra?"

"Yes, Fenrir?" Sinistra said, dabbing a bit of her dark makeup off her face. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong with my telescope!"

"What do you mean?" Sinistra asked, a bit confused. "Perhaps I heard you wrong. Did you say something's _wrong_ with your telescope?"

"Yes, I did," Naomi said. She looked through the lens again and then asked, "Is that glowing red cloud supposed to be surrounding Jupiter? I can't see anything but that cloud!"

"Let me see," said Sinistra. "Move over, dear, and let me take a look." As the teacher looked through the lenses, she just shrugged. "It should clear up in a minute or two. It seems you got the jinxed telescope tonight." Naomi grumbled as she took her seat again. "Oh, and you might want to wear something a bit less revealing for our next lesson, because it's really going to start getting cold out here." Sinistra then elbowed Naomi. "You need a jacket, dear. That shirt is too low cut for Astronomy. Did Professor Snape write you up for that yet?"

"No, he didn't," Naomi admitted. "He just stared at me and smiled like a pervert. You're not going to write me up, are you?"

Sinistra laughed and then said, "Of course not, Miss Fenrir. Just wear clothes that cover more of your body in the future. This is a school, not a harem." Even though Naomi continued to fuss a bit, she finished up by saying a 'yes, Professor Sinistra,' at the end of the argument.

Harry couldn't believe Naomi hadn't gotten detention for doing that, either. He looked to see Ron was looking up at the stars and smiling, muttering the name 'Celia' over and over. Hermione was focusing on her work, and so was Cassandra (who was taking a ton of notes in her black book). Seamus, Dean, Justin, and Neville were working on essays that were due for Cyanis. Parvati and Lavender were looking at a copy of _Witch Weekly_ with Susan and Hannah. Malfoy was joking around with Pansy. Marcus was still working, but occasionally giving Harry unfriendly looks that were beginning to look a bit intimidating. Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep and were drooling on the stone walls of the tower's top, where everyone was supposed to be watching the stars. Blaise was writing something down, but really wasn't paying that much attention to the lesson.

After Astronomy was over, Harry and the other Gryffindors headed off for the dormitories. Everyone was exhausted, and ready to get a decent rest for the next day. Ron didn't even bother to change into his pajamas, he was so tired. Harry, however, hadn't had this much leftover energy in a long time…at least, not once this school year. Every single night, he'd suddenly get very tired and would collapse as soon as he knew he'd hit a comfortable surface. However, tonight, he really wasn't sleepy at all. He opened up his bookbag and saw the Telemiths. His father had been a Seventh Year and Skylarke was a Fifth Year the last time a gorgonix was unleashed at Hogwarts, and nearly three dozen people died…at least, that's what Skylarke had told Harry. After overhearing that conversation with Ahsimal right before Astronomy, Harry wasn't so sure if he should trust Skylarke and believe everything he said.

'_All the questions you might have about the tragedy I mentioned to you will be answered in here,' _Skylarke had said. '_A Telemith doesn't work exactly like a Pensieve, but when used correctly, it will allow you to see the past just as clearly.'_ Harry then remembered something else Skylarke had warned him about…'_you can manipulate the past if you're not careful; be extremely cautious when using this_.' "Well," Harry muttered. "Here goes nothing…_Telemithus Anaris!_"

It was a sickening sensation at first, but then it felt as if Harry was walking through ice cold water. The air had dropped temperature dramatically, and he looked outside to see snow. He saw a few students pass by, but they weren't any that he recognized. Harry realized that he was in the past, and it looked like it was a night in either late December or very early January; it was obvious that the Christmas Holiday was still in effect. He was in the Gryffindor Common Room, but there was only one other person up there…Lupin. Harry walked past Lupin-the-young-adult as quietly as he could, but suddenly, Lupin woke up…and saw Harry. "James, I thought you were at home with your mum and dad. What are you doing here?"

"Er…" Harry said, glad Lupin hadn't realized he wasn't James, "Nothing much; I just got the urge to hit Tellulan with a dung bomb, that's all. You know, ol' Limps-a-lot?"

"Oh, okay," Lupin said, and fell asleep again.

'_What a relief,' _thought Harry. He was glad that he hadn't frightened Lupin, but he was shocked to find out that he could interact with people in the past. Skylarke hadn't lied about that after all. He was very careful to use his Invisibility Cloak while going down the halls, just in case someone else accidentally spotted him. He saw a couple of younger—but familiar—faces as he kept walking. He saw Nezura talking to a couple of girls that looked a lot alike (probably the Tawny twins she's mentioned before; Audrey and Michelle), Snape and Skylarke reading a very old-looking book, and then he saw the boy with the spiky black hair and brass eyes again…Aurelius Fallowin, no doubt. Another boy was with him…one that looked almost identical to him. "Look, Aurelius," the other boy said (this one had his hair slicked back into a ponytail). "I'm getting tired of you telling me what to do; this is entirely your fault."

"Mine! Licinius, you're the one that got caught. That is _not_ my problem," Aurelius snapped, and then walked off.

Harry shrugged, and then remembered that earlier, Sebastian had shown him _his_ death. That had been in early December, as far as Harry could tell; the Christmas decorations had been up, but classes still had been going on. Now the decorations were beginning to come down, and hardly any people were inside the castle. Then again, Skylarke and Fallowin had looked a bit older this time. '_This had to be a later year'_...Harry thought. There was one way to find out…he walked into the Teachers' Lounge on the Sixth Floor and looked up at the wall. There were a couple more _Teacher of the Year_ plaques up there. One had been issued to _Minerva McGonagall_ _(Transfiguration)_ for 1975 and one to _Cain Cyanis (Hypnotism)_ for 1976…it was the 1976-1977 school year. That meant that Harry's parents were Seventh Years (and were probably dating) and so were most of their friends. Skylarke and Fallowin would be Fifth Years. Sebastian Argentum had been dead for a year or two. Harry walked out, and then ran into a Fourth Year girl that looked a lot like Marcus's mum. His Invisibility Cloak slipped off, and she saw him. "Who are you?" she asked. "Are you related to James?"

"Who?" Harry asked, trying to act like he had no idea what this girl was talking about.

"James Potter; are you related to him?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm visiting a friend of mine," Harry lied. "My name's Gregory."

"Well, nice to meet you!" the girl said, laughing. "My name's Stella Piper Skylarke."

'_Skylarke?'_ Harry thought. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I don't have a sister, but I've got two brothers," said Stella Piper. "Their names are Míguel and Mortimer." She smiled. "I'm really proud of Míguel." She then walked off and giggled. "Well, Greg, I hope you find your friend, and don't let a teacher catch you on school property!" After she walked off, Harry rolled his eyes. '_Girls,'_ he thought, '_they'll believe anything you tell them_.'

After Stella left, Harry saw that Snape was in the hall, right in front of him. He froze, afraid that he might manipulate the past if he got caught. He put the Invisibility Cloak back on, and looked around. Skylarke was with Snape, but Fallowin was nowhere to be seen. A couple of people walked past them, carrying dead bodies under sheets resting on stretchers.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Skylarke asked, holding on tightly to a dusty old book. Snape was walking up to Turret Seven.

"I'm just heading up to the Aerie," Snape said coldly. "Are you coming or not?"

"I still don't know why you want to go up there; it's just an empty tower."

"_Just an empty tower_, Morty?" Snape laughed and then rolled his eyes. "I want to see if I can commune with the Dead up there. It's a hot spot for souls that haven't crossed over," he said, pulling out his wand. "I want to become a Necromancer, you know, so I've got to practice whenever I get the chance."

"Well, yeah, but that's what the Summoning Tower is for, right? In that case, why aren't we heading to Turret Four?"

"Because, Ahsimal's on vacation in New Orleans and we don't have his permission to be up there," Snape said, rolling his eyes again. "Shall we proceed?"

Skylarke smiled and nodded as they opened up the door to the Aerie. "Well, that makes sense. Sure, let's get up here before McGonagall or Tellulan catch us in the act of talking to a dead person." He shuddered. "Don't misinterpret what I say, Severus, because Necromancy's my favorite class too, but isn't this a bit creepy?"

"That's the point!" Snape said, beaming. His teeth were just as yellowish as Harry recollected. "Remember, even if we don't hear anything, the cassette recorder we brought will probably pick it up."

"Are you sure?" Skylarke asked, looking at the cassette recorder doubtfully.

Snape laughed at Skylarke's questions. He obviously thought that Skylarke's inquisitive mindset was quite entertaining. "Necromancy is one of the darkest forms of magic in the world. I want to learn all I can about it, and I'm sure that Darius will teach us everything we wish to know. He's very wise in his subject." Snape pressed the _on_ button to start the recording.

"He's wise, yes," Skylarke said, halfheartedly twisting a gaudy ring on his left middle finger. "I can see why you and I both like and respect this specific professor." He shook his head, and auburn hair flew everywhere. "I dislike most of the others…especially that old crackpot Tellulan. He can die and go to Hell for all I care—"

"Shut up! Somebody's coming!" Snape whispered poisonously. He pulled Skylarke down beneath a large antique sofa. "Don't just stand there; _hide_ unless you want to be caught. Honestly, Morty…" Snape crawled under a huge chaise lounge and made sure he could get out easily.

The door creaked open and two other people entered the spacious room. "Okay, Tybalt," Harry heard one man say. "You dragged me out of my Manipulations classroom…now what? Surely you've got a satisfactory reason to separate me from my Second Years?"

"Shut up, Aldebaran," Tellulan snarled, holding a medium-sized black bag. "I pulled you aside because I need help. You're a Manipulator, am I correct?"

"Er…yes…where is this going?" Aldebaran Black started pulling his hair into a ponytail, and he looked pretty ornery with Tellulan. "What's your point?"

"I…I've got a problem," Tellulan said sweetly, showing off his rotten teeth in his foul smile. "The Ministry of Magic thinks that Cynthia Lynches was possessed when they arrested her two years ago."

"Well, you caught her in the act, so why do you care if they think she was possessed or not?"

"She gets let out of Azkaban if they can prove she was possessed! Ah, Aldebaran, you're a good-looking, honest lad, right?"

"I like to think so," Aldebaran said, raising a dark eyebrow at Tellulan's unusual behavior. "What's up with you? Usually, you call me all sorts of foul stuff and laugh at me for wearing eyeliner. Lately, you've been throwing compliments at me left and right." Aldebaran put his hand up to Tellulan's forehead. "Are you running a fever?"

Tellulan grabbed Aldebaran's hand, jerked it off his filthy face, and snarled like a rabid dog. "Don't touch me, understand?" He clutched his bag tighter.

"Your temperature is a lot lower than it should be," Aldebaran said. Harry could see Skylarke and Snape were watching this scene in fascination under that sofa and chaise lounge. However, Harry could tell they were both a little too nervous to admit that they were spying. "You're most certainly not feeling well. Perhaps Madame Gizinju should take a look at you."

"Are you kidding? Haruka would keep me in the infirmary for weeks!"

"Better alive and well than sick and dying, right?"

"Shut up, you cocky bastard," Tellulan snapped.

"This is the Professor Tellulan that I remember!" Aldebaran said, laughing. "You know, I didn't see any likenesses between the nice guy and the usual asshole—" His laughter was cut short as Tellulan punched him in the mouth. Aldebaran fell backwards, holding his face in agony. "Damn you, Tybalt! Look what you did to my face!" A black eye was forming on Aldebaran's left, and a stream of blood was gushing from his mouth. He rolled up his sleeves, and then pulled out his wand. "Now you've got Hell to pay, you jerk!" Before Aldebaran could utter a curse or something at Tellulan, it was too late. Tellulan had lunged at him and knocked him to the ground again. "Is there anyone in here! Help!" Suddenly, a frightening look of realization was in the young man's eyes. "Cynthia was innocent, wasn't she?" When Tellulan smiled again, Aldebaran screamed in horror. "She didn't kill Sebastian…it was _you_!"

"Damn, and here I was thinking you were stupid," Tellulan said, laughing sadistically.

Aldebaran reached for his wand and began his incantation. "_Petrificus Total—_"; he didn't finish the Full-Body Bind, but howled in pain as Tellulan stomped on his hand. Even Harry could hear the bones crack. "Veronica! I'm in here! VERONICA!" He kept shouting out that name until Tellulan broke his other hand and took his wand…he snapped it in two.

"You were going to use that, weren't you?" Tellulan said in a very obnoxious, taunting voice. He then gave off that despicable laugh that Harry found particularly annoying. Harry looked under the furniture to see that both Snape and Skylarke looked too terrified to move from their hiding places. They obviously were afraid that if they came out in the open, Tellulan would attack them both just like he had done to Professor Black.

"You're such a fool, Black," Tellulan said. Harry could smell his rancid breath and could see his rotting teeth and blackening gums. Blood was oozing out of the hands of Aldebaran, who was trying his best to hold in his agony and not put on a scene. "You guessed right; it was _I_ who murdered Sebastian and I even took the time to frame Cynthia. She looked guilty, all covered in blood, looming over the victim, didn't she? Actually, I'd wanted to make you look like the guilty party, but you just weren't convenient at the time. You know I hate you with a passion, boy." He then laughed. "I heard you calling for Acheron a moment ago. Face it, lad; Veronica's not going to save you from me. Since you know that I'm the person that killed that Argentum twit, I'm going to have to silence you." He held up his wand and pointed it at Aldebaran, who was trying his best to run away, scrambling on his feet. _"Avada—"_

"NO!" A tall woman with strawberry-blonde hair and a willowy build rushed through the door. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, had quite a number of wrinkles under her eyes, and was wearing a robe with a pinstripe pattern. "Aldebaran!"

"Don't just stand there, Veronica," Aldebaran shouted, "Get him! Tybalt..."

"Silence, you!" Tellulan shouted as he beat his fist across Aldebaran's right jaw. He then sighed and said, "Veronica, my dear, Black is obviously delusional…probably overdosed on medication or something. He was about to use the Death Curse on me!"

Veronica glared at Tellulan. "I can see right through your act; you're fooling nobody." Tellulan raised his wand and shouted something out. The door slammed and the lights dimmed. "What the—"

"Nobody can leave, and nobody's coming in to help you out!" Tellulan said smoothly. The fire (which was now the only light) glowed in a sinister manner, and its dim light made Tellulan's ugly face look freakishly like a skull. "That door's not going to be opening any time soon!"

"Summon your broomstick and fly out the window," Aldebaran sputtered to Veronica. "I didn't mean to trap you in here with me…I just wanted some backup against Tybalt, _honest_."

Veronica gave Aldebaran a weak smile. "I know that you'd never set me up. We're friends, right? I'd help you, and I know you'd do the same if I was the one being threatened—"

Tellulan then lunged at the woman and ripped into her flesh with his talon-like nails. Shrieks, screams, and wails could be heard all throughout the room, coming from Veronica. His laughter was deep and raspy; it almost sounded entirely bestial. "Scream all you like! We're the only people in here!" Veronica put up a good fight, but like Sebastian Argentum, she was no match for a wild man like Tybalt Tellulan. That insane laughter was echoing now, and pounding on the door could be heard. It seemed like a lot of people were trying their best to break in and rescue Tellulan's victims before it became too late to save anybody.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to report you," Veronica sputtered, blood running in streams down her lips.

"Just keep telling yourself that you're going to live to see another day," Tellulan said, "Seeing my playthings have false hope gives me the jollies." He held up his wand again, and began his incantation. _"Avada Kedav_—"; Aldebaran tackled Tellulan—breaking his concentration—and knocked the wand out of his captor's gnarled right hand. "Son of a bitch!" Tellulan snarled as Aldebaran attacked him. That didn't last too long until Tellulan got the upper hand in the fight. He threw Aldebaran against the wall, and there was another cracking of bones. Aldebaran didn't get up, but he was far from dead; Tellulan had broken his back. All he could do was sit there with his broken hands and back, and watch helplessly as Tellulan opened up his bag to show...the severed head of a young girl. "Remember Diana?" he said evilly, as he tossed it at Aldebaran. Harry saw Skylarke vomit from under the sofa. Tellulan then pulled out his wand and pointed it at Veronica, _"Crucio!"_ Veronica writhed in pain and screamed as loud as possible. The pounding on the door had gotten a lot stronger, and it looked like the door was about to bust open. "Damn it!" Finally, Veronica was silenced and went limp. "Ah…_finally_!" Tellulan then grabbed the corpse and began to eat pieces of it, making a mess. Aldebaran closed his eyes, and his face made contact with the floor. He didn't get up.

Finally, Skylarke and Snape couldn't take anymore of this. "I _knew_ it was you all along!" Skylarke shouted. "Lynches never would have killed Argentum. It _was_ you…and I thought I was insane to think badly of you! You were a _hero_ at this school at one point, but I guess that gorgonix got the better of you?"

"What would you know of that?" Tellulan hissed. "I got full control of my body again a little over a year ago. I'm the murderer that everyone's been trying to locate since Argentum and those students died a couple of years ago."

"Why didn't you report yourself?"

"I enjoy living outside of Azkaban, thank you very much. I'm not a fool; only a total idiot would turn himself in. Besides, everyone outside this room thinks that Cynthia Lynches did it. I would hate to insult their intelligence." Tellulan's grin was absolutely putrid. "Sebastian caught me on a bad day, and got me very irritable. I killed him because he realized that I had something evil dwelling inside me. Being the git that he was; he would have told everyone if I didn't silence him first…that would have damaged my image of me being a local hero, and I couldn't afford to let that happen. Don't you understand? It would be a waste of my time to turn myself in to the Aurors!"

"Why did you make Lynches your target…_besides_ the fact that she was easy prey?" Skylarke asked, his eyes wide open in shock. "Not that I liked her that much—she always yelled at me—but I doubt any innocent person _really _deserves to rot alive in a hellhole like Azkaban."

"Besides being convenient at the time when I was frantic, you want to know why I picked that bitch?" Tellulan asked. "I'd be thrilled to tell you, Skylarke, Snape. Cynthia was prone to wander around by herself at night anyway, and nobody had any idea what she was doing…except for me. I knew that she had difficulty falling asleep and went to the kitchen to get a brandy every night to help drift her off to her dreams. Besides, everyone thought she might be involved with the deaths. Come on, admit it; neither one of you liked her anyway." Tellulan gave off another laugh.

"You killed those students, too, didn't you?" Snape asked. "Simon Thatcher, Diana Shaiden, Sakura Meioh, Rex Daimon…"

"Yeah, I disposed of them, too," Tellulan said in a sweet voice, yet there was a dangerous tone underneath it. For some odd reason, Harry couldn't help but think of Dolores Umbridge. That was the ugliest smile he had ever seen on a person. "People will still think Cynthia did it—"

"How are you going to explain the deaths of Professor Acheron and Professor Black to Dumbledore?" Snape asked, a sinister smile curling up on his thin lips. "Have you got another scapegoat? Hey, let go of me!"

Tellulan had grabbed Snape by the arm and pulled up his sleeve. "Well, well, well…Severus Snape's a Death Eater! Who would have thought that you'd be capable of becoming something so…_deadly_?" The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher then laughed again and threw Snape up against the wall, hoping to break his back like he had done Aldebaran. It didn't work. "You're a perfect candidate to be a cold-blooded killer in an oblivious person's eyes. I'll just use the Confundus Charm on you, and tell them that both of you killed Black and Acheron. Since I'm a hero, they're bound to believe me." He then looked at Skylarke. "Now…what can I do to you? Ah, I know…I'll dispose of you, too!"

Tellulan started running toward Skylarke at an alarmingly fast speed. The pounding on the door sounded like thunder, it was getting so loud. "Whoever's in here, OPEN UP THE DOOR!" everyone heard McGonagall shout. "I've got Mad-Eye Moody with me!"

"Okay, asshole," Moody snarled. "Open up the door, or I'll bust it down."

"I'm trying to open the door," Tellulan lied. "Severus Snape and Mortimer Skylarke attacked Aldebaran and me when we went up here to have a bit of a duel practice. Please, help me before it's too late..."

"You're…choking…me…" Skylarke said, gasping for air. Tellulan was strangling him with a belt. His legs were dangling in the air, and he was trying his hardest to fight against the teacher. It was awful; Tellulan seemed to have superhuman strength.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Snape shouted, pointing his wand at Tellulan. The savage-looking man's skin paled, and he hit the ground with a very loud thud. It was obvious he was dead. Skylarke rushed over to the door; it opened easily with just one turn of the knob. Mad-Eye Moody, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snitchgrass, Parenein, Lewn, and seven other people rushed into the room as quickly as they could.

"Party's over," Moody said, signaling for a couple of his reinforcement Aurors to hold back Skylarke and Snape. "We see that you two killed Veronica Acheron, Diana Shaiden, Aldebaran Black, _and_ Tybalt Tellulan. Not only does this get you expelled from Hogwarts…congratulations, lads. You're going to spend the rest of your lives as cellmates in Azkaban."

"No, you don't understand!" Skylarke shouted. "We didn't do it!"

"We just heard one of you mutter an Unforgivable, the Death Curse, a moment ago. Do you think we're idiots? All the evidence points to you and Snape, Skylarke," said Parenein. "It's a real shame you had to turn out like this. You had so much potential…what are you parents going to say when they find out you've got a life sentence for multiple murders?"

"Say hi to Cynthia for me," Lewn said sarcastically. She looked at the bodies and gagged. "Bloody Hell…I think I'm going to vomit…" And then, true to her word, that is exactly what she did. "That is absolutely disgusting..."

"You sick bastards!" Snitchgrass hissed. "Some of Acheron's body 'as been chewed off; I can't believe zat either ov you vould be so perverted as to _eat_ a human corpse! Zat is _very_ sick!"

"You're not listening to us; we didn't kill anyone!" Skylarke shouted, furious.

"Except Tellulan," Snape admitted, smiling. "I'll admit to killing _him_."

"Well, it looks like you killed Mrs. Acheron, Miss Shaiden, and Mr. Black as well—"

Dumbledore was cut short by a man with iron gray hair and a scarf around his neck. "Maybe not," said the man. "Black's still alive."

"I'm…not…dead…yet…" Aldebaran muttered painfully as McGonagall and two Aurors rushed him off to the infirmary to see Madame Haruka Gizinju, the Healer of Hogwarts in 1976.

"Vere are you taking za victim?" Snitchgrass asked.

"After Haruka sees him, he's going straight to St. Mungo's," said McGonagall. "Aldebaran, you're going to be just fine. Trust me; you're going to live through this." Aldebaran sighed as the Aurors and the Transfigurations teacher rushed him off to the hospital.

Moody, Dumbledore, four other Aurors, and three Hawkbanes were still in the room with the bodies, Snape, and Skylarke. "You say you didn't kill anyone, except Tellulan," Dumbledore said. "What happened in here, Mortimer?"

"Severus and I were coming up here to commune with the Dead, sir. We would have gone up to Turret Four, but since Professor Ahsimal is on his vacation break, we didn't have access to the Summoning Tower." Skylarke then pulled out his cassette recorder and pressed the _stop_ button. "Severus told me to bring this because these things can pick up stuff that a human ear can miss the first time around—I know he didn't make it up, either; it's an actual technique used by some parapsychologists in the Muggle world—and so we turned it on, hoping to pick up something from a soul. Then Professor Black and Professor Tellulan came in, and started talking."

"After a while, things got out of hand, and Tellulan started beating Black up...if you listen to the entire cassette tape, it'll tell you everything you need to know," Snape said as he pressed the _rewind_ button. "Can we go now?"

"No," said Moody. "Both of you are going to come with us to the Ministry of Magic headquarters until we listen to the entire cassette."

"You don't believe us?" Skylarke asked, his face turning white and ashen.

"Why should we? You're guilty until proven innocent," said Moody. "Come on, lads…until we hear that whole tape, you're no different from..." he looked at Snape's forearm for a minute and sighed, "_Death Eaters_."

A young woman in jeans and a t-shirt just looked at Snape and Skylarke and mouthed the words, "_How could you?_" Skylarke clutched at his chest; Harry could see the gold locket…he also saw that Snape, Skylarke, and the young woman all had the same gaudy ring on their left middle finger…pewter skeletons holding up an obsidian sphere. Skylarke and Snape were dragged out, their wands confiscated.

"You're just lucky this was during the Christmas Holiday, lads," Moody snarled. "Because, if your fellow students had been here, we sure as Hell would've paraded you down the corridors." Skylarke's face had no color whatsoever to it; it was obvious that he was terrified.

Harry then got the nauseating feeling again, and the Telemith transferred him back to the present. He then went to bed and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

In the morning, Harry remembered that Hawkbane was playing against Ravenclaw and that he was excused from classes so he could participate. The whole school was, once more, going to be watching. He reported up to Turret Twelve, just as Snitchgrass had told him to do. Marcus, Isis, Lisa, and Malfoy were already there. "No, she's not!" Isis shouted. "You're just jealous that Hermione has true talent…_unlike you_!"

"Why would I envy a Mudblood?" Malfoy asked. Marcus rolled his eyes but snickered a bit before he took a bite out of his granola bar. Lisa giggled profusely up to the point where Harry could tell she was faking it. "She's got no talent when it comes to Quidditch."

"She sure as Hell has better grades than you, though," Marcus said, laughing. "Come on, admit it; she's smarter than you, Draco."

"Maybe, but I'm better than her," Malfoy concluded. Lisa continued to chortle, and then accidentally made a snorting sound. "Oh, now that's gross, Turpin."

"Hey, it's not like I can help that Harry broke my nose," Lisa snarled. "What kind of jerk would punch a lady?"

"You're not a lady," Isis said cheerily. "I think Malfoy's girlier than you."

"Well, Acheron, you're such a little whore, running about with any boy you can get your filthy paws on." Lisa was getting Isis very angry at that point. "Honestly, you have no class, even if you _are_ a Pureblood witch!"

Harry joined in the conversation. "Lisa, if you want your nose broken again, just continue running your mouth." Lisa shut up immediately, much to the relief of Isis and Harry.

Phoebus came in at that point with a bottle of rice wine in his left hand. "Ah, some of you were early today! Bravo! Now, if only you'd do that for practice, too, then we'd be invincible, Hawkbane." It was clear that he enjoyed being the coach for the Hawkbane team. It was the longest lasting job he'd had in a very long time…which really wasn't saying much, because the longest job he'd kept before this one had only lasted two months. Nonetheless, the whole team could tell that he was very enthusiastic about this new position.

"Hello, Harry," said Isis. "Thanks for coming to my rescue; I really owe you one."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Harry said. "We're all on the same Quidditch team, right?"

Marcus walked up to Harry and asked, "Do you still have the crazy idea that my dad and mum are in league with You-know-who?" When Harry nodded, Marcus let out a heavy sigh. "My parents are an Auror and a Slayer…I think someone like Draco's dad would be a much more likely candidate."

"Lucius Malfoy's a Death Eater, too," Harry said. "He tried to kill me..."

"Too bad he didn't succeed," Malfoy said in a very taunting voice.

"Where the Hell did Weasley, Wells, and Goldman go?" Lisa asked suddenly. "We're supposed to be out on the field against Ravenclaw in ten minutes, and they haven't even bothered to show up!" She grumbled a bit and then said, "Hey, I bet that they think they're all better than us and don't need to come until the last second possible! Wells believes that she can get away with anything, just because she's got Dumbledore as her grandfather. Goldman deems himself better than the common student just because he has dashingly good looks, _and he knows it_. Weasley's mighty arrogant for somebody that lives in a garbage heap..."

"Cut it out!" Harry snarled, waving his fist angrily at the gossipy girl. "You _know_ that I'll hit you again if you don't shut up!"

"You'll be expelled if you do," Lisa threatened. "You're not supposed to harass other students, you know…even if they _are_ talking about other people in a way you don't like." At that moment, Ron and Celia showed up, fully dressed in their Hawkbane Quidditch robes, holding hands. Celia had her hair in a pair of braids (with Ravenclaw ribbons) and the tips of Ron's ears had turned a bit red. "Oh, look who _finally_ decided to show up! We've got _five minutes_ before the game officially starts!"

"Sorry we're late, everyone," said Celia. "Ron and I got a little sidetracked."

"Where's Josh?" Ron asked, looking around. "He's the only one that's not here."

Isis then squealed in delight as Josh ran over toward the rest of the team. He was in his robes, and his hair was pulled back into a hair net. "This really makes me look like a fairy," Josh said flatly, pointing to his hair. "I'm only wearing it like this so it won't get tangled out there. I absolutely _hate_ having to comb my hair after a Quidditch game…it's such a hassle."

"Where _were_ you!" Lisa thundered, getting all up in Josh's face. "The game begins in two minutes! What were you doing, Goldman? Primping in front of a mirror while the rest of us are about to have coronaries because we have no idea where you are! _This damn game could be the best or worse one of the year for all we know!_"

"Calm down, Lisa," said Malfoy. "You sound like _you're_ about to have a coronary."

"I AM!" Lisa boomed, pointing a trembling finger at Josh. "Go to Hell, Goldman!"

"Okay," Josh said in a cheeky tone, "but you're coming with me, Lisa."

"Can this wait until later?" Ron asked. "I think we should be heading out to the field right about now." Celia checked her watch and squealed for enthusiasm. It was obviously time for the games to begin. "Did Celia and I miss anything good, Harry?"

"Not really; Lisa was just talking trash about you. Don't worry; I was here to defend your good name," Harry said as he mounted his Soulcatcher. Ron hopped onto his Cleansweep. Isis, Celia, and Lisa sat down on their Nimbus 2002 broomsticks. Marcus and Josh were very careful to get a good seating on their Firebolts. As for Malfoy, he had a Monsoon Storm that he was trying to settle on; however, it kept knocking him off, for some odd reason.

"Let's go out there and make a good impression, everyone," Phoebus said, beaming. "I have faith in all of you fine ladies and gentlemen, and I'm sure that we'll win. Why? _Because we are the best_, that's why!" As the students flew out there for their arrival on the field, Phoebus shouted, "Win this for fame, for glory, and most importantly, for _yourselves_!" He jumped up and down in excitement, waving Hawkbane banners. It was obvious he was drunk.

Harry looked around; he could see most of the Hawkbanes were sitting together. Snitchgrass waved at him and winked. Lewn, Parenein, and Furrier didn't seem all that interested in watching the game. Ahsimal and Skylarke were sitting together, but it was unclear to Harry what they were doing; it looked like they were chanting something over a crystal Ahsimal was holding. Loxias was sitting with the Ravenclaw students, waving a banner cheerily. "Cho, dear, you're going to do just fine! Malfoy and Potter are no threat to you; show off your true talent today! Besides, this is your last year at Hogwarts. Go enjoy the game, dear, and win it for Ravenclaw." Cho went out there with the rest of her team, just as Loxias had coaxed her to do.

"I don't feel comfortable out here," said Celia. "It just feels kind of weird to be playing against your own House. I feel almost like a traitor of some kind."

"Yeah," Lisa said, her tan face turning white as a sheet. "Me too, Wells. It makes me feel like I'm double crossing Ravenclaw. I feel out of place."

"Marcus and I had the same problem when we played against Slytherin," Malfoy said. "You'll get over that uneasy feeling in a minute. Trust me." Lisa gave him a watery smile.

"Did you _have_ to bring that day up, Draco?" Marcus said unhappily. "Rick's _still_ pissed with me for breaking his damn leg. I could have gone all day without hearing _that_ all over again!" He sighed heavily. "I'm sure my game's going to be all screwed up now that you've said that."

"Get over it," Lisa said, watching the Ravenclaws rise up to the field. "Ravenclaw, forgive Wells and me for playing against you," she muttered before shouting, "It's time to kick some ass!"

The game began, but it just wasn't the same with someone else doing the commentary besides Lee Jordan. "Welcome, Hogwarts, to the Hawkbane versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match! This is Atticus Shadow IX, bringing you up to date with the game!" Harry rolled his eyes; he'd rather hear Atticus's trombone than his commentary any day of the week. Even listening to Atticus read a _paper_ could easily become exceedingly dull. Harry _knew_ this was going to be a very hard game to play. And there was Cho… "The Snitch has been released!"

Harry woke up from his little daze and realized the game had begun. Josh and Marcus were tossing the Bludgers back and forth, and then hit a Chaser with one of them. "That was a good move for Marcus Cantarus!" The Chaser fell to the ground and broke an arm. She was dragged off to the infirmary to receive medical attention immediately.

"ATTICUS!" McGonagall shouted angrily. "We've got _First Years_ in the crowd too, you know! _No obscene language!_"

"Sorry about that, Professor McGonagall," said Atticus from the stands. "Ron Weasley was unable to stop the Quaffle! Ravenclaw earns ten points!" Harry looked up to see that Ron didn't look so happy about his failure. "Orson Stanton was _also_ unable to stop the Quaffle! Hawkbane earns ten points! Nice job there, Celia Wells!" Atticus then wandered off topic. "Celia, Josh! I'm rooting for you guys!"

"ATTICUS!" McGonagall shouted again. "Try to stick to the _game_, not your friends that are _in_ the game!"

"Sorry _again_, Professor McGonagall," Atticus said, laughing. "Oh, wow! Josh Goldman and Marcus Cantarus have knocked out Orson Stanton!" Orson fell off his broomstick and landed on the ground. Like the Chaser, he was taken to the infirmary as quickly as possible. "Ravenclaw is seriously disabled, because their Keeper has been knocked out of the game! Hawkbane has a tremendous advantage, thanks to their magnificent Beaters! Keep up the good work, guys! The score at present is Hawkbane 10 and Ravenclaw 10!"

"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Celia asked. "You just seem to be out of it today. Is something wrong?" Before Harry could answer Celia, Atticus announced to the audience that Isis had just scored ten more points for Hawkbane. "Harry, you look like you need to..."; Celia was suddenly hit by a Bludger.

"Bloody Hell! Hawkbane has just lost their prettiest Chaser!" Atticus then turned toward McGonagall. "Professor, is she going to be okay! My best friend just got hit by a Bludger!"

"I thought that _I _was your best friend, Atticus!" Josh bellowed on the field. Atticus obviously couldn't hear him. "Oy! Didn't you hear me? _I thought I was your best friend!_"

"I'm okay," Celia shouted to the crowd, rolling up her sleeve. She had a very purple bruise on her right arm, but there was no other damage. "Celia Wells is _not _calling it quits today!'

"This is absolutely wonderful, ladies and gents! Celia Wells is still in the game! Long live Hawkbane!" Atticus shouted from the speakers. "Oh, dear…Ravenclaw has just scored ten more points! Ron, you need to keep the Quaffle out of those three rings! The score is Hawkbane 10 and Ravenclaw 20! Hold in there, Hawkbane! Things are going to get bloody!"

"ATTICUS!" McGonagall shouted. "Stop rooting for your favorite team where _everyone_ can hear you! Professor Flitwick, Professor Ebonyste, and the other Ravenclaw teachers _don't_ appreciate you praising Hawkbane over the loudspeaker!"

"That's right, you crippled bastard!" Ebonyste shouted. "It's obvious that you're biased!"

"And Professor Cyanis _isn't_?" Atticus asked back. "Who allowed him to referee, anyway?"

"I did!" Mortius shouted.

"Sorry, Professor Snape. I didn't mean to inquire upon your judgment," Atticus said. "Anyways…back to the game!"

It kept up like that for nearly five more hours. "Okay," Atticus said, his voice beginning to sound a bit dry and raspy. "The score is Hawkbane 300, Ravenclaw 120! Wait…wait…Lisa Turpin knocks the Quaffle into a ring! Hawkbane scores _another_ ten points!"

"We're having a good day," Marcus muttered. Josh and Celia agreed with him cheerily.

"Where's that damn Snitch?" Malfoy said suddenly. "It's bound to be here _somewhere_."

Harry had been looking for it—and had been dodging the Bludgers—for quite a while, but the Snitch was nowhere to be found, or so it seemed. Suddenly, it became clear to Harry that Cho had spotted it. "Oy, Malloy!"

"Well, well, well…Chang spotted it for us!" Malfoy sneered. "Come on, Potter! Let's get it before..."

"Ravenclaw has caught the Golden Snitch!" Atticus shouted. "The end of the game is finally here! The score is Hawkbane 310, Ravenclaw 270. Although Cho Chang was able to catch the Snitch, Hawkbane wins the game! The last time I saw something this good was the Quidditch World Cup of 1994…Bulgaria versus Ireland! Good game and long live Hawkbane! Many special thanks to Mr. Phoebus Stellian for coaching our magnificent Quidditch team! Can I get a cough drop now? I really need one; my throat feels like it's covered in..."

"ATTICUS!" McGonagall shouted. "That's enough! The game's over!"

Atticus wheeled out and met up with the group. "Hey, you guys were great," he said, sucking on a cough drop. "That was a marvelous game; you just keep getting better and better."

"Yeah," said Rhianna, walking up to them. She was holding a _Hawkbane_ banner. "I can't believe that Chang caught the Snitch, but you _still_ won the game!"

Ron laughed. "Celia, you're brave to keep on going after you got hit by that Bludger."

"It hurt, I'll admit it, but I'm not a quitter," Celia said. "I need to go meet Naomi now."

"What for?" asked Ron, curious.

"It's for a special project Loxias assigned," Celia answered, running off. "See you later!"

"What a wonderful Wednesday!" Lisa said, scurrying toward Marcus and Josh. "Goldman, Cantarus, I really must compliment you on your marvelous skill as Beaters." Josh pulled his long hair out of the hairnet finally. "Do that to the people we'll be playing against this summer, and we'll be an unstoppable force to be reckoned with!"

"Ron, you were great," Isis said, beaming. "Celia really thinks the world of you."

"Aw…quit rubbing that in my face!" Josh glowered at Isis angrily.

After the Quidditch game was officially over, and Harry had managed to take a shower, he tried to find Ron and Hermione. It didn't take him long to find Ron…with Celia clinging to his arm. "Hey, Ron," Harry said.

"Oh, hi Harry," said Ron. "Do you mind if I just spend some time with Celia alone?"

"No, not at all," Harry lied. Inwardly, he was already a bit jealous of the pretty girl; it was beginning to seem that Celia was trying to steal his best friend away from him. "See you later."

He walked down the corridors for a while, until he found Hermione and Atticus discussing something about Band & Orchestra. "Professor Twitchett really likes you, Hermione," Atticus said. "I can't play my trombone that well, but you're a sensation on that clarinet, according to her."

Harry rolled his eyes and continued walking, not interested in the least about musical instruments. He spotted Colin and Dennis Creevey in the hall, so he tried his best to not be heard or seen. He'd hate that kind of attention right now…_especially_ after a Hawkbane Quidditch game. Therefore, he kept on going, and found himself striding down Turret Row again. Skylarke seemed to be cruising down the corridors as well. "Ah, Harry! We meet again," said Skylarke. "I saw the game from my classroom window. You and Malfoy were good, but I think the due credit for winning the game _this time _goes to your friend Ron, Marcus and Josh, and those three fantastic Chasers that Snitchgrass selected for the team."

"Yeah, Marcus made a good move by knocking Orson off his broomstick," Harry said. He didn't want to talk about Ron right now. '_Ron's hanging out with his girlfriend, and ignoring his other friends,'_ Harry thought bitterly. "Can we talk about something else _besides_ Quidditch? I was out there for about five hours today."

"Sure, no problem," Skylarke said, and then looked at what was around Harry's neck. "That looks a lot like the locket I lost."

"I found it the other day," Harry said, wondering what Skylarke was hinting at. "Are you sure this one's yours?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Skylarke said. "I know it's mine because it's got the Crest of..."; he cut himself short, and his glasses slipped off of his sallow face. "Oh, never mind…it's just got a specific symbol that a few friends of mine and I use."

"What does it mean?" Harry asked. "Does it have anything to do with Voldemort?"

"Not really," Skylarke said, holding his gloved hand out, obviously wanting Harry to return the locket to him, the rightful owner. "Look, Harry…you have no idea how much that means to me. Pictures of all my closest friends are in there, and the melody it plays was written by a friend of mine that got ambushed four years ago..."

"You got ambushed?" Harry asked. What was Skylarke trying to hide from him? "Why?"

"Well, I wasn't there…it was just my friend Natalie." Skylarke held out his hand. "Please, Harry…just give me back my damn locket."

"Fine," Harry said coldly as he took the locket off his neck. "Here you are. Why is it so important to you…_besides_ being something that contains pictures of your friends?"

Skylarke gently took the locket from Harry and fastened it around his neck. "There is so much that I can't tell you right now, you wouldn't understand a bit of it, but I can tell you this…Darius and I both have plans to set Aurelius free tonight, as well as Severus and a couple of others. I'm pleading with you because you already knew about this…_don't_ give us away." Skylarke sighed. "I've had problems with the Ministry of Magic in the past…some of those _misadventures _were quite traumatic. If those events had not happened to me, you'd probably have known a much more cheerful Mortimer Skylarke than the one you see in class."

Harry kind of backed up, not sure what to really think of this man. '_He dresses very weirdly, he's hiding something—probably to protect somebody he's loyal to—he won't tell me anything without having to hide something else, and I heard the way he was talking to Ahsimal last night…that was disturbing_,' Harry thought. Was Skylarke a wicked man after all? Was he in favor of Voldemort? "One of those memories with the Ministry was in the Telemith," Harry said. "I was wondering…did Aldebaran Black survive the attack from Tellulan?"

"Yeah, he did," Skylarke said. "He's still in St. Mungo's, as far as I've heard. Natalie's there, too."

"Who's she?"

"Natalie's my Auror friend I told you about a moment ago. She's the one that composed the little melody in the locket. Currently, she's in a coma at St. Mungo's." Skylarke sighed. "Darius was supposed to come by here and get me right about now. I wonder what's taking him so long. Damn, I hope he's doing better since last night. Well, Harry, since we've already gotten into an interesting conversation, just tell me…is there anything else on your mind?"

"Did Ahsimal get hurt pretty badly yesterday?" Harry watched Skylarke lower his head.

"Yes," Skylarke said flatly. Harry then noticed the dark rings under the gaunt man's eyes. "Slayers hate vampires, you understand. Well, we've got three of them over here—no, wait! It's four, because Mortius is pretending to be Severus!—that really can't stand your Necromancy master. Darius is very open about his origins, and finds his own nature to be nothing out of the ordinary. To a Slayer, Darius in particular could be a potential threat to everyone else at Hogwarts that has a pulse and warm blood. Therefore, they find it their duty to get rid of vampires, lamiae, banshees, poltergeist, and werewolves."

"Then why didn't they get rid of Peeves by now?" Harry pondered. "He's far more obnoxious than Ahsimal, and he even gets the teachers frustrated! Why do they target Ahsimal the most? Is there really that much of a prejudice against vampires?"

"Slayer always hate vampires the most," Skylarke answered. "Anything undead or considered 'harmful' and 'subhuman' is their _enemy_, and they feel that they must purge the world of it. They're a lot like Aurors, except sometimes Slayers will even practice the Dark Arts to make an enemy succumb to them." The teacher sighed, and put his gloved hands to his face. "Three true Professors at this school have been very successful Slayers in the past. They teach Foreign Magic, Clairvoyancy, and Hypnosis. Ebonyste has killed nearly forty lamiae, a dozen vampires—including one that had been very close to Darius since the days of the Persian Empire—, five werewolves, and about twenty banshees—"

"_Ebonyste_ did that!" Harry couldn't believe it…that half-fairy looked so friendly; he didn't look like a cold-blooded killer. Then he remembered that Ebonyste _also _used to be a Death Eater.

"Lewn—yeah, the same airhead that teaches you—has killed about seven lamiae, four vampires, nine werewolves, and about thirty banshees. Cyanis has never killed a lamia, because he married one named Portia, but he's wiped out six vampires, twenty-two werewolves, and two banshees."

"What about…Julius Cantarus?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Cantarus's body count makes the others look like mere child's play. He's destroyed two entire colonies of vampires, which alone totals about seven hundred. He's also killed about that many werewolves, and thirty-seven banshees. He's dispersed nearly two hundred poltergeists around the world. And as for lamiae…thanks to him, there are only about twenty of them left in the entire world. Potter, have you covered lamiae yet in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"No, I haven't," Harry admitted. He had no idea what they were. "What are they, exactly?"

"Lamiae are supposedly these powerful, wicked females vampires who seduce men—they usually pick one target, but it's not unheard of for a lamia to attract the attention of any guy that passes by—and then they'll drink the blood out of you alive. They also devour children. More people are actually afraid of classic vampires, until they hear about these people. I know a lamia personally, but she's not exactly what I'd call_ evil_. You've met Cassandra Snape, right?"

"Cassandra's a vampire," Harry corrected Skylarke.

"I know that Cassandra's a vampire; so is her mother. However, Lydia is also a lamia in nature."

Harry's eyes widened as he pictured Cassandra's elegant, beautiful mother in his mind again. Lydia had looked perfect…absolutely flawless. "She _is_!"

Skylarke nodded. "Lydia's one of my very good friends, but it's most unfortunate that she's a lamia. However, she doesn't really act like the rest of her kind. She has two living children of her own, and never intimidates the other youth that she interacts with. She doesn't seduce men—as far as I know—and the only blood I've seen her drink has been from those little medical bags. Darius and Cassandra usually do the same thing; they're not endangering anybody by being vampires."

"_Morty!_ I'm ready to go!" Ahsimal shouted, coming down the hall in a purple taffeta-and-lace robe. He was wearing eyeshadow, too. "Did you get the stuff we'll need?"

"Of course I did, Darius," said Skylarke. "Harry, before we leave, is there anything else you'd like to ask us?" His jade eyes seemed to be piercing deep into Harry's thoughts. Perhaps Skylarke was a Legilimens of some kind.

"Actually, there's one more think I want to know," Harry said, glaring at Skylarke. "What were you and Ahsimal talking about last night? I overheard you."

Skylarke blanched. "Did you get a good look at Darius? Someone stabbed him with a wooden stake, and missed his heart by a couple of inches. Thanks to Poppy, he's all better, but he also complained that his Necromancy classroom smelled strongly of garlic this morning. Someone's out to kill him, and we both have our suspicions." The teacher then gained a lot of the color in his face again, and starting pulling his sleeves down further. Harry had yet to see any piece of skin below the upper neck on Skylarke. "Darius and I were talking about how he could have his retribution. We think it would be wise to eliminate our adversaries before things get even worse for us. The Slayers at this school—save Mortius, whom I'm sure would hate for anyone _else_ to know about his identity—have slowed down the plans Darius and I have been making ever since I'd first thought about teaching over here. I have more purpose to be at Hogwarts than your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…but you'd probably run out of here screaming if I told you the entire truth about _that _matter."

Skylarke sighed. "Harry, do you trust me? If you don't, I won't try to win you over. Actually, I think it would be wise for you to be suspicious of everyone…" Skylarke looked quite dismal and forced out the words, "_even of me_."

"What are your intentions?" Harry asked suddenly, to both Ahsimal and Skylarke. "Are you both Death Eaters? Do you serve Voldemort?"

The very idea of that seemed to strike terror in Skylarke's face; he looked absolutely devastated and horrified at the same time. That overwhelming sense of gloom surrounding the gaunt professor even brushed off a bit on Harry. He ran out of the room, his face as white as chalk, and looking as if he had just been reminded of something very traumatic. The door slammed behind the upset teacher and closed with such a force, that a photo of one of Skylarke's college classes fell to the ground. The glass frame shattered into tiny pieces.

Ahsimal grabbed Harry by the neck, his sharp, long fingernails digging into the Gryffindor's skin. His face didn't look like he was about to burst into tears like Skylarke…Ahsimal looked as if the thing he wanted to do the most at that moment was strangle Harry to death. "_Never_ bring up that subject to Morty! Didn't you know that he's been accused of that before! We aren't _evil_ men, Potter, so don't try to explain something you'd never understand!"

Harry bit his lip, and sighed in relief as Ahsimal put him down. "What is it that you and Skylarke think I wouldn't understand?"

"Morty's cursed," Ahsimal said flatly. "He may be one of the world's best Cursemasters, but there is a curse that the real Severus Snape put on him that can _never_ be taken off. Severus didn't mean to put it on Morty, but now the unfortunate fellow's got to deal with that problem of his for all eternity…even after Death." The albino then let out a heavy sigh. "Like you, Morty really wants to stand up against the Dark Lord, _especially_ because he never served him to begin with."

"What about you?"

Ahsimal flinched and said, "Don't tell anyone; only you, Dumbledore, and a few others know about this, and I'd like to keep it that way." He pulled the left sleeve on his purple robe up so Harry could see it for himself…the Dark Mark. "_I _was a Death Eater, and it was _I_ that first mentioned it to Severus. I was a monster in those days; since Sargon had been murdered, I felt that there was no reason why I had to help people who looked down upon my entire kind..."

"Was Sargon another vampire?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he was; probably one of the best I have ever met. He was the only person who really got to know me heart and soul until I became dedicated to a group of people who have sworn themselves to complete secrecy. Sargon and I had met when the Persian Empire had been in its prime. He had been a newly made vampire, and his _creator_ had left him for dead. I took him under my wing, and we became inseparable after that. He was absolutely beautiful; I was attracted to everything about him. Even his personality made me fall even more in love with his charismatic self. We had been perfect soul mates…until Adonis murdered him in his sleep." Ahsimal had tears or mourning and hatred building up in his eyes. "After Sargon died, I had an epiphany. I thought the Dark Lord opposed Slayers, since they were so similar to Aurors, and would welcome a vampire by his side. I was his first disciple, and was made an Overlord immediately…his second in command. I killed several; the elderly, the young, children, infants…anything my Master told me to destroy, I would. He was also very impressed with me for several reasons, one of which was my incomparable skill as a Necromancer. It wasn't until later that a group of Slayers joined the Death Eaters that I began to feel a tremendous sense of jealousy." Ahsimal turned toward Harry. "_Never_ tell anyone what I just confessed to you. I trust you and my other Afterlight students enough to tell you something like that. I'll tell you the rest of it another day. Time is running out, and I have to find Morty. We're going to bust two innocent men out of Azkaban, but we need to make sure no Aurors find us."

"Now why's that?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Neither one of us have a good record with the Ministry of Magic," Ahsimal explained, "_especially_ me. They never found out that I was a Death Eater, but they _do_ know that I'm an active vampire that still occasionally feeds on humans." He pointed a long, manicured fingernail at Harry. "If I find out that you told _anyone_, even Weasley or Granger, then I'll make sure that I _feed_ upon you when I get another blood craving. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Harry said; he hated having this androgynous fellow bossing him around, but he didn't want to die with a large chunk of his neck missing, and being drained of every ounce of his blood. He had taken Necromancy long enough to know that if the body had been drained by a vampire, it was next to impossible to have it Resurrected after death settled into it. He wanted to know more, though…he knew more about Ahsimal than he did about Snape already, but the vampire just seemed to tell the story of his life so well. Ahsimal was so _different_ from everyone else—even in the way he dressed—and it was so hard for Harry to picture this guy as Voldemort's second in command. What he knew so far was shocking enough, but there were so many questions running through his head that he wanted to ask. Had Ahsimal severed all ties with the active Death Eaters? Was biting Cassandra _really_ an accident, or had it been deliberate? Did Voldemort know anything about Necromancy? If so, had _Ahsimal_ taught him? His mind was racing. "Professor—" It was too late; Ahsimal had walked out the door.

"I knew you hadn't gone off without me," Harry heard Ahsimal say. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Skylarke said glumly. Suddenly, his voice sounded a lot merrier, "Let's go set those poor bastards free, shall we? This is the opportunity we've been looking for!"

Harry heard fading footsteps, and walked out the door. He saw Ahsimal and Skylarke heading off, and he knew what they were planning to do. Did Dumbledore know anything about their plans? Did Dumbledore know about Mortius? He looked out a window, and saw that the sun was beginning to set. As he checked his watch, Harry realized that it was dinner time. However, something chilling came into his mind…'_Skylarke said that he and Ahsimal were busting Fallowin and Snape out, but he also said there were two others_!' He walked to the Great Hall, and sat there, waiting for the other Hawkbane students to arrive. Hermione came in and sat down next to Harry. "Hi, Harry," she said. "Ron told me to tell you that he and Celia won't be eating with us."

"Well, what are they doing?" Harry asked, "Do I want to know?"

"They're just going out to the Quidditch field so Celia can run her laps," Hermione said. "Get your mind out the gutter!" She pulled out How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming, and began to write something down in a red composition book. "I'm taking notes on the banshee chapter for our next lesson with Nezura. Oh, and before I forget to ask you, have you completed your griffin study for Hagrid yet?"

"Actually, I did," Harry admitted, holding up his three-foot report. He was quite pleased with it, and knew that Hagrid was going to give him an 'O' for his hard work. Even though he knew Hagrid wouldn't really care one way or the other, Harry had made an annotated list of all his resources he had used for research. He wanted to make sure that Loxias didn't find something to gripe about during the next Manipulations lesson. Suddenly, another friend came and sat down at the table, looking quite sulky. "Hello, Rick!"

"Hey," Rick said in a very dismal voice. He didn't even look up.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Cora broke up with me in front of everyone," Rick said. "We'd only gone out for a week, too. I was in front of all those Ravenclaws, and she called me a gangly git with a big mole!"

"Oh, Rick!" said Hermione. "I'm so sorry to hear that! Is there anything we can do to make you feel any better?"

"Actually, there is," Rick said. "You can change the subject." At that moment, Malfoy and Marcus came in. "Oy, over here!" Malfoy and Marcus sat down by Rick. Malfoy seemed to know what was bothering Rick, so he didn't even bring up the topic of Cora Fenrir. Marcus didn't say anything at all, he just kept stabbing his filet mignon, making it bleed all over his plate. "Could you stop that, Marcus?" Rick asked. "That looks absolutely disgusting." Marcus then cut the steak properly and began to eat. "Has anyone seen Josh anywhere?"

Josh walked into the Great Hall, already changed into his plaid flannel pajamas and a pair of thick wool socks. "Sorry I'm late; Hell of a good game, ay, Marcus?"

"I'm going to have to agree with you, Josh," Marcus said, smiling at Josh. "We were good."

Josh elbowed Marcus playfully. "It's great having you as the other Beater on the team. You and I kick a lot of Hogwarts ass together!"

"Yeah, isn't that the truth?" Marcus said. Malfoy accidentally had his splipberry nectar come out of his nose from laughing. "Just think of Orson Stanton!"

"Talking about Quidditch?" Lisa said, taking a seat next to Harry…where Ron was supposed to be sitting. "We've got an unstoppable team, no doubt about it! I can't wait to write my next article about us. Isn't it marvelous how nobody can defeat us? We are the elite!" She took a very heavy gulp of her hot chocolate and started to pant afterwards. "Damn it; I think I just scorched my mouth! My tongue's on fire!"

"Maybe that'll convince you to not use it for a while," Rick said flatly, leering at Lisa.

"Ricky, pluck your mole," Lisa began to sing. "Oh, Ricky, pluck your mole. It's big and..."

"Shut up, Lisa," Harry said. "That's _really_ getting to be an annoying song."

"I know one that's worse," said Josh, who turned to look at Marcus. They both laughed.

"I know it, too!" Malfoy jeered. "Weasley is our King!" Suddenly, the whole Slytherin team started singing a round of that popular mock-Ron-Weasley song that Malfoy himself had written last year. "See? Isn't that more obnoxious than Rick's Mole Song?"

"Not to me," Rick said angrily, shaking his fist at Lisa. "Go away, Lisa."

"_You_ go away, squirt," Lisa countered. "My butt is staying right where it is." She giggled, but she didn't move. It was obvious that she was getting a rise out of Rick.

"Aw…you can't even get Turpin to listen to you!" Malfoy said to Rick. "That's sad."

Marcus and Josh moved on to dessert, and compared to see who had a bigger wand. "Damn, Josh," Marcus said. "Mine is nine inches, how long is yours?"

"Eleven," said Josh. "Why do you ask?"

Hermione saw everyone laugh, and she rolled her eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter!"

Harry looked over to see what the teachers were doing at their table. The seats where Ahsimal and Skylarke usually sat were unoccupied. He could hear the conversation going on between Cyanis and Furrier. "What can a Slytherin do to a Hawkbane anyway? You don't scare me." Furrier stuck out his tongue, and started to guffaw after that.

Lewn threw her pudding, trying to hit Mortius, thinking him to be Snape. However, it hit McGonagall. "Uh oh," Lewn said. "Sorry, Minerva; I didn't mean to hit you with that."

For revenge, McGonagall threw her mashed potatoes at Lewn. She had a satisfied look on her face. "Victory to Gryffindor!" she crowed.

"Oh, shut up," Mortius hissed as he threw his baked beans.

"Let me play too!" Ebonyste squealed. "I'm feeling neglected!" He threw more pudding at McGonagall. It hit Nezura.

"Hey! You ruined my hair, Ebonyste! It's time for payback!" Nezura threw her fried chicken at him. It made a _squish_ sound on his face. Ebonyste squalled with displeasure, and the food fight continued. Luckily for McGonagall, she was the only one at the table that hadn't had anything land on her face. Flitwick was covered in a chicken pot pie, but seemed to be enjoying himself. Sinistra had just _accidentally_ spilled her cranberry sauce all over Lewn's white robes, and was repeating this _accident_ with Loxias, who had fallen asleep in her tapioca pudding.

Harry pointed at the teachers and sighed. "They're acting like a bunch of First Years over there," he heard Hermione say. "And just a couple of days ago, didn't Parenein tell us all that _we_ were acting immature?"

Dinner finally ended, but there was still so much Harry wanted to do…for example, he wanted to see if Skylarke and Ahsimal had gotten Fallowin and Snape out of Azkaban yet. Would they be back before Thursday morning? Although he was quite certain that Ahsimal wasn't a trustworthy man, Harry knew that there was so much he could learn from that particular vampire…whether he was still a Death Eater or not. He went out to the Quidditch field to see that Ron and Celia were still there, but Celia wasn't running laps; the two of them were laying on their backs, watching the stars. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much, Harry," said Ron. "We're trying to find a certain star."

"No luck in finding Vega," Celia explained.

Harry shrugged and decided this didn't look quite as interesting as something else he could be doing. Perhaps he could try to make amends with Marcus or try to solve the mystery of who killed Lupin. '_Maybe I should try to find Cassandra,_ he thought, _I'm sure that she's written down what _**_really_**_ happened to Skylarke_.' Harry knew that if Skylarke told him anything, he'd hide something else that could probably be twice as useful. The story was far from being complete in Harry's mind, and he wanted to have all the blank parts filled in. That man made him question everything that he knew…but why? "Er…Ron? I'll see you and Celia tomorrow."

"Okay," Ron said as he pointed out a red giant star to Celia. "Well, I _still_ don't know where Vega is, but I know for a fact that one over there is named Betelgeuse."

Harry walked away, deciding that the most interesting thing he could do would be to find Cassandra and see if she knew something about Skylarke or Ahsimal that he didn't. There were numerous groups of students walking down the halls, chatting merrily to one another. Colin Creevey and his friends waved at Harry frantically as he passed; Harry paid no notice. Naomi and Atticus were howling with laughter at some joke Josh was telling them. Loxias was scurrying about down the halls, trying to swallow all the aspirin pills out of an entire bottle with one glass of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Cho was bragging to her friends about how she'd managed to capture the Snitch and _almost _won the game. Marcus and Malfoy were plotting a way to throw the entire school into anarchy. Nothing much seemed new, except that Cassandra was nowhere to be found.

Harry sat in the Gryffindor Common Room for an hour or two, looking over his report he'd done on griffins. Sometime soon, he'd ask Nezura about the baby griffins she had, and see if he could keep one as a pet. He was sure Hedwig wouldn't get _too _overly jealous of a mythical creature, and he didn't have to worry about coming up with a name for one. Nezura had given a name to each and every one of them. There was one that Harry had a very strong liking to that Nezura had named Godric. That little griffin recognized Harry whenever he visited Nezura after class, very friendly. "You know," Nezura had said. "I think Godric really likes you. A person doesn't pick a griffin as a companion. The griffin picks the person they want to accompany. What about you come back here each week and get to know this little fellow better?"

Harry thought twice about that, and decided that it would be nice to see Godric. He went up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and noticed that Nezura was in there, looking over a lavender-colored letter with interested, silvery eyes. "Hello there, Harry! Did you come in here to visit with your little friend?"

"Actually, Professor, I did; how's Godric doing?"

"Oh, he's great! You know that it's in the nature of griffins to hold and guard treasure, right? Well, Godric, Hecuba, Priam, and Menelaus have all been practicing their guarding skills. The other day, I brought in a love letter I got from an admirer of mine and put it up on my bulletin board. Snape came in here, trying to take it down, and my four little griffins almost bit his leg off."

"You're not joking?" Harry asked. "Fluffy almost got it five years ago, and now four unhappy baby griffins are repeating history. I was wondering…when can I give Godric a home?"

"Whenever you like," Nezura said sweetly. "Since you saved my life, I'll let you have as many as you like for free. Just keep in mind that griffins are some of the most expensive magical pets you can legally buy. They're something like the Blacks, the Skylarkes, the Malfoys, or the Von Dorians would have. However, I have no qualms for letting you give Godric here a good home." She picked up the baby griffin (it still had a long way to go before it reached maturity; it was about the size of the average dog) and handed it to Harry. "See? Didn't I tell you he picked you?"

Godric rubbed his eagle-like head on Harry's pants and started swishing his lion tail. He then started to make cooing noises, and followed Harry out the door. "Don't worry; I'll take good care of him." He wanted to show Hagrid his new pet, so he started heading out to Hagrid's Hut. It wasn't a long walk, and it only took Harry about five minutes to get there with Godric tagging along behind him. He knocked on the door. "Hagrid, are you there?"

"Yeh, I'm here," Hagrid said as he opened the door. "Welcome back, Harry." Harry picked up Godric so Hagrid could see the cute little creature. "Aw…how'd ya get a griffin?"

"Nezura gave him to me," Harry explained. "His name's Godric, after Godric Gryffindor…er….Hagrid, would you like to hold him for a minute?"

"_Of course_ I would like to 'old 'im!" Hagrid said, delighted, as he picked up the little creature. "He sure is cute, ain't he? Ya know griffins aren't that hard ta look after, don't ya? They can do most stuff by themselves, but they'd guard anything ya tell 'em ta guard for ya. According to Nezura, she's got one by the name of Hecuba—no idea where she got that name—that guards her knickers' drawer so nobody can steal her pinstripe panties. Ebonyste did, though…" Both Hagrid and Harry got a good laugh out of that little story. Godric fell asleep by the fireplace. "Since yer won't be able to give Godric the love 'n care he needs righ' now, due to schoolwork, do yer mind too terribly if I baby-sit the little fellow? Would that become a problem?"

"Not at all, Hagrid," said Harry. "Everything you need to know to help Godric out is in my griffin report. I thought I'd turn that in early."

"Well, that's good to know!" said Hagrid, cheerily. He fed Godric a biscuit. However, after eating that one little morsel, the baby griffin started to beg for another.

Harry stayed in there with Hagrid for a while longer, but then decided it was about time for him to start heading off to Gryffindor Tower because he _still_ had school tomorrow. He noticed that Celia and Ron weren't walking together, and that Naomi had just kissed Atticus good-night. "Hey, Potter!" said Lewn in her syrupy sweet voice. "How are you?"

"Er…I'm just fine, thanks," Harry said, wondering why the sexy blonde was talking to him.

"I was wondering…have you thought about becoming a Slayer when you get out of Hogwarts? It's such a rewarding career, knowing that you're helping this world to become a more stable and safe place! Since you're thinking about Auror work as a career, I must say you don't really have the grades for it. At this rate, they'd never accept you to the academy. I should know; I didn't pass their standards when I went in."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked in a voice that was becoming quite defensive. He didn't want to talk to Lewn right now; sure, she was pretty, but this was one of the teachers who constantly got on his nerves. She was already giving him a headache. As Lewn got closer to Harry, Loxias passed by, and the headache got much worse…it almost felt as if Voldemort was in the room, it was so intense. "Are you saying I haven't got what it takes?"

"Not at all, dear! You just don't have the kind of grades that are mandatory for that type of work! I never thought it possible, but you've got a 'P' in Clairvoyancy." Lewn gave a sexy smile to Harry, her white teeth dazzling and her gold ringlets falling loosely to the lower part of her back. "However, I think you'd be a Hell of a good Slayer. The work's similar, but nobody can be turned down. Besides, I think it's more honorable, anyway."

"I still don't know about becoming a Slayer," Harry said, hoping that would make Lewn leave him alone. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you in Clairvoyancy before the week concludes."

"Make that a sure thing! We've got our class sometime tomorrow! Well, Potter, I'll see you in Turret Two! Bye-bye!" Lewn waltzed down the hall in her bubblegum pink robes and high heels. She was also wearing a very low-cut magenta dress that showed off quite a bit of her cleavage, much to the delight of any guy that saw her appealing, youthful body. Like usual, she looked like a gorgeous supermodel. It was disturbing to the students to learn that Lewn was, indeed, a teacher (and a _Hawkbane_ teacher at that!), and also that she was really in her nineties.

Glad that Lewn had left him alone, Harry started walking up to Gryffindor Tower. The halls seemed to be emptied of almost everyone. However, he soon found Cassandra. "There you are!" he shouted, hoping she heard him. However, she didn't even seem to notice Harry was there.

She held out her wand, pointed it in Harry's direction, and yelled out, "_Malidicitus Corpsus!_" There was a sickening thud.

"What did you do?" Harry asked, caught absolutely unaware. He looked and saw that Parenein was lying on the floor, gasping for air. His veins were turning black, and his skin was turning a sickening white with just a touch of olive green. His eyes were bulging, and his nails were getting dark. It was an awful sight…especially once the eyes didn't sparkle like they usually did, and the body stopped twitching. Parenein was dead, and it was obvious he had died painfully. The corpse just lay there, still and silent; Cassandra didn't seem to have any regrets for her actions.

"He choked on his own tongue," Cassandra said, in a toneless voice, as if she had just been halfway-watching a Quidditch game and was simply informing someone about the score. The green fire in the back of her eyes seemed to actually be glowing. Her voice might have sounded a bit dull, but her face showed that she looked as if she was quite proud of what she had just done. "I killed him with good reason; he was going to kill _you_."

"WHAT! He _was_!" Cassandra pulled up Parenein's sleeve and there for Harry to see was the Dark Mark. In the dead man's pocket had been his wand, a bottle of yew berries, and a large knife. He couldn't believe it; Parenein had hardly even spoken to Harry, and had seemed to be a friendly (but dirty) old man when he had first been introduced at the Hawkbane Ceremony.

"Get out of here," Cassandra hissed to Harry. "I don't want people thinking you were involved, in case I get caught."

"Let me help you," Harry argued. "You saved my life..."

"Don't get mushy with me. You're catching Nezura Syndrome already, and that's not a good thing, trust me. Don't just stand there…_get out of here!_"

Harry ran down a corridor, but stayed there, putting on his Invisibility Cloak. '_It's a good thing I've been keeping it with my books lately_,' he thought. It didn't take long for McGonagall, Mortius, Flitwick, Sprout, Hagrid, Sinistra, and Furrier to arrive with Dumbledore. Lewn and Snitchgrass hurried behind half a minute later…and then Ebonyste, Nezura, Loxias, and Cyanis. "Okay," Ebonyste said. "What the Hell's going on over here? It's nine o' clock, _post_ meridian time, and I heard—NOOOOO!" Ebonyste suddenly wailed, his fingers clutching at his horrified face. "ACORUS!"

"Oh my God," Snitchgrass muttered, looking as if she was about to vomit by simply looking at the remains of the Alchemy teacher. She rushed off to a girls' lavatory to do just that.

Lewn was crying in agony, her make-up running down her rosy cheeks. Cyanis came up to embrace the pretty blonde, and tried to comfort her. "Look, Claire, this won't go unavenged."

"**_Who did this!"_** Ebonyste thundered, sounding quite threatening. He didn't look laidback and fun-loving right now…he looked like he wanted to avenge Parenein's death, and didn't give a damn whether or not he winded up in Azkaban for doing so. "_Who killed Icarus_!" He pointed a finger at Cassandra, and said in the same deep voice that had shouted at Marcus on the first day of Foreign Magic, "It was _you, damn it_!" Lewn and Cyanis had to hold Ebonyste back from attacking Cassandra. "I hope you rot in Hell for what you did!"

"Adonis, please control yourself," McGonagall said. "Violence isn't going to change anything. The facts remain…Hogwarts has lost the best Alchemist to ever teach here. Parenein's name should be up there with Flamel and Agrippa." McGonagall then faced Cassandra with a very angry look and then turned to face Ebonyste. "I can see why you're so upset; this is a major loss."

"You filthy bloodsucker!" Ebonyste shouted angrily at Cassandra. "You deserve to..."

"Professor Ebonyste, that is quite enough!" Dumbledore interrupted, stepping in between Cassandra and Ebonyste. He then turned to face the remorseless girl and asked, "_Did_ you murder Professor Parenein?"

"Yes, I did," Cassandra said grimly. Ebonyste's tear-stained face twisted into an expression of hatred and pure fury. Dumbledore then asked her why. "You knew he was a Death Eater, right?"

"I knew he used to serve Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "However, Professor Parenein strayed from that path a few years ago, just as your uncle had done. I trusted Icarus, just as I trust everyone in the school."

"Then that makes you quite a fool. Headmaster, you also trusted Professor Quirrell, and he turned out to have the Dark Lord on the back of his head," Cassandra snapped, and then pointed a finger at Mortius. "Besides, that is _not_ my uncle over there! That's Marcus Cantarus's dad!"

"You're mad," Mortius snarled, and then turned to face the other teachers. "If I was Julius, Cassandra, then wouldn't I be in Azkaban right now?" He laughed, and Ebonyste, Lewn, and Cyanis joined in. "You didn't answer the Headmaster's question, my dear…why did you kill Professor Icarus Parenein?"

"He was going to kill Harry," Cassandra said, sounding quite bewildered. She frantically turned toward Dumbledore. "You believe me, don't you?" Mortius and Cyanis dragged her off. "HEADMASTER! I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!" She screamed and fought the entire way as the two men dragged her into a closet and locked her in.

"Stanzi, would you and Argus mind staying here to make sure Miss Snape doesn't get out of her temporary prison?" Nezura asked. Filch beamed as he sat in front of the door. "Well, now we know nobody's coming out of there any time soon! Bravo, Argus!"

"Thanks, Mitzi," said Filch.

"You can count on us," Loxias said sleepily. "She won't be leaving until the Aurors come to take her away from Hogwarts. Poor girl…I almost feel sorry for her." When Hagrid gave her a very strange look, she hurriedly added, "The key word was _almost_, okay? Stop looking at me like that!"

Mortius scurried out of the chaos and Harry heard him mutter, "That was close." Ebonyste was with him, and it was clear that the Foreign Magic teacher knew _exactly_ what was going on.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen:

Farewells and Returns

Harry couldn't believe it…Snape was being freed from Azkaban this very minute, and his niece was obviously heading in that direction. The Aurors came to take Cassandra in half an hour. "Say hello to Aurelius Fallowin for me!" Lewn teased as Cassandra sat in the locked closet silently. Suddenly, Lewn saw Harry (his Invisibility Cloak had fallen off). "Potter, do you know what just happened! Professor Parenein is dead! We're going to need a new Alchemy teacher..."

"Not so," said Loxias. "I've got my Mage's Degree in Alchemy, and I believe I know more about the subject than Icarus, who just got appointed because he made another Philosopher's Stone in private. I actually _mastered _Alchemy, so I'd be qualified, wouldn't I, Claire?"

"Well, Stanzi," Lewn said in a tearful but sweet voice, "you'll have to talk to Dumbledore about that little idea; I _think _we need Alchemy more than Manipulations."

Loxias sighed. "When can I talk to him? I'm stuck out here guarding this door, making sure this little girl doesn't get out." She really didn't seem too excited about keeping Cassandra inside that closet. "It's such a pity…this young lady had _potential_!"

Harry walked over there after Lewn walked off to join Cyanis. "Er…Professor Loxia?"

"What do you want, Potter?" Loxias said. She didn't sound like she wanted to rip his head off this time…she sounded exhausted. "You wouldn't have greeted me properly if you weren't up to something."

"Forget it," Harry grumbled as he walked off. Loxias really irritated him, and he now would be having her for Alchemy instead of Manipulations. It was awful…she was the newest Professor on the campus, and she was already being given an opening she would have preferred to begin with. It was as if he was watching these events through a movie; he felt powerless against the events that occurred over the next half hour. Tonks, Shacklebolt, and a couple of other Aurors came in to take Cassandra straight to Azkaban. There was no need to do this properly at the Ministry of Magic…five or six people had seen her kill Parenein, and she had confessed to doing so already. The Aurors didn't even say anything to Harry.

"Okay," said Shacklebolt, holding out his hand. "Mr. Filch, could you please hand me the key to the closet?" He turned to face Tonks. "Oy, Tonks…are you ready?"

"Of course I'm ready…_and_ armed!" Tonks said, holding out her wand. At that moment, Filch gave Shacklebolt the keys. "Er…McCoy…you ready?"

"Yes," said a man with graying hair and sparkling eyes. "Let's get the girl out o' here on the count o' three. Are you ready? One…Two…THREE!" McCoy and Shacklebolt opened up the door while Tonks and the fourth Auror (a very skinny aging blonde woman) had their wands ready, in case Cassandra tried to get away. Cassandra got hit with a sleeping charm and was dragged off peacefully. McCoy then shook hands with Harry. "I'm Andrew McCoy, nice to meet you."

Suddenly, Harry realized who the aging blonde was. "You're Cynthia Lynches!"

The too-skinny woman turned around to face Harry. She blinked for a moment, and then said, "Well, yes I am, actually…have we met?"

"Cynthia, you can talk later…the girl's got to be taken to Azkaban before she wakes up and becomes dangerous," McCoy snapped at Lynches. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Cassandra, still asleep, floated in the air in front of the Aurors. "Mr. Potter, do well in your classes on Thursday tomorrow." McCoy then looked through Cassandra's pockets to see what she was carrying. "Let's see; a deck of Tarot cards, wand, two vials of blood, Hawkbane card…what's this? Are those what I think they are; _concert tickets _to see the Weird Sisters, Celestina Warbeck, and The Furies tomorrow! Why the Hell would she have those in there? These are front-row tickets to ManiFest! I had no idea ol' Snivellus could afford something like this; he'd have to be as rich as _Lucius Malfoy_ to get seats that are this good _with_ backstage passes!"

"Since it is _obvious_ Cassandra won't be going…can I have one of those tickets?" Tonks asked suddenly. "You know that I _love_ the Weird Sisters. Celestina Warbeck, I don't give a damn about, but The Furies are wonderful, too. I've tried for _years_ to make it to ManiFest, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to get to meet The Furies in person! Aw…come on, Andrew," she said to McCoy. "Let me put a ticket to good use."

"Cassandra was going to take a few friends to the concert," said Harry, eyeing his ManiFest ticket in McCoy's clammy hand. "She invited me to come at the Halloween Masquerade."

McCoy handed Harry one of the tickets and dangled the others in front of him. "Who were the other people who were going to accompany Cassandra Snape and you to ManiFest?" He sat down, and so did Shacklebolt and Lynches. Tonks seemed to have her heart set on getting Cassandra's ticket, but she paid close attention to Harry at the same time. "Go on…tell us."

"Atticus Shadow IX, Celia Wells, Rhianna Apathy," Harry said. "It was just going to be the five of us, I think, and we would be back here in time for our classes, although I doubt we'd be getting any sleep that night. Doesn't ManiFest take place in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, it does," said Tonks. "This might sound a bit odd, but it takes place in St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery in downtown Hogsmeade. Isn't that where Professor Ahsimal takes you guys to practice Necromancy?" When Harry told Tonks she was correct, the young woman smiled. "I really respect Darius; he's a really great guy. You like him too, right? Well, of course you do…what's not to like about him?"

"I think he's gay," Harry commented. Tonks laughed, and nodded in agreement.

"By the way," Lynches said, looking suspicious of something. "I haven't seen any of Darius Ahsimal or Mortimer Skylarke this whole evening. Did they retire for the night, or are they away? If so, they don't have permission, do they?"

"They went to sleep right after dinner," Harry lied. He had no idea why he had just covered up for two people he wasn't sure were trustworthy.

"Let's go wake them up," McCoy said, beaming. He started walking over to Turret Fifteen's door and began to knock loudly…loud enough to almost wake the Dead.

"NO! You don't want to do that, Andrew!" Lynches snapped, stopping McCoy from about pounding the door into splinters. "Vampires are extremely dangerous and Darius probably won't hold himself back if you tear his door apart with your bare hands. Potter," she said sweetly, handing him the ManiFest tickets, "make sure that you and your friends enjoy yourselves tomorrow night, okay? Tonks is going to use Cassandra's ticket, just in case the concert's a booby trap." Lynches, McCoy, Shacklebolt, and Tonks all took Cassandra (and her ManiFest ticket) out of Hogwarts. They followed behind, and didn't look back.

That night, Harry's dreams were very disturbing:

_He could see Tom Riddle as a Seventh Year, sitting inside a classroom, with a crystal chandelier (instead of the skeleton one) dangling over him and his classmates. Suddenly, Harry realized that this was Ahsimal's Necromancy Tower…and there was Ahsimal in the dream, looking the same (except for his clothing) as he did in the present. "Okay, everyone," Ahsimal said. "We've finished our lessons concerning Communing the Dead. We have just completed our course in Necromancy III. If you wish to take Necromancy IV, you're welcome to come if I personally invite you." Ahsimal scurried over to Riddle's desk and whispered, "Tom, I think you'd make a marvelous Necromancer. Have you ever considered that for a career? You're perfect in here…I have never taught anyone as great as you, save one other." A beautiful, androgynous-looking young man (he looked just as girly as Ahsimal) dressed in a tuxedo sat on the black velvet-lined ebony loveseat and smiled. He had dirty-blonde hair down to his shoulders, neatly combed back, and he was wearing a pair of white gloves with his outfit…it made him look like an orchestra conductor. "Now, isn't that right, Sargon?"_

"_Oh, Darius," said the young man, obviously another vampire, "stop being so sweet."_

"_I want to be the best," Riddle argued. "Teach me all you can about the Dead."_

"_Are you sure you want to know all about the World Hereafter?" Ahsimal asked, and then said, "You know, Death is the worst thing in this world. If you can find any means of immortality, Tom, I say go for it. Look at Sargon and me…we've been together for millennia." Riddle rolled up one of his sleeves and sat it on top of his desk._

"_What are you doing?" Sargon asked, curiously leaning over._

"_What are you waiting for?" Riddle said in a cold voice. "The blood of Salazar Slytherin runs through my veins. I never want to die, and you personally said that AB- was your favorite blood type, Professor Ahsimal. Go on, bite me; I dare you to."_

"_Er…Tom? I bit somebody this morning; I don't need another snack."_

"_If you're willing to be bitten, I'd love to nip you," Sargon said, easing forward._

_Riddle slapped Sargon hard enough to send the elegant-looking vampire across the room. "Not you, Sargon! You'd suck me dry and wouldn't give me the Sustaining Elixir afterwards! I've seen you feast on other humans before, and I don't want to become one of _your_ meals. You're a Von Dorian vampire."_

"_Damn," Sargon said, turning to Ahsimal. "I thought it would work. I'm hungry." He stomped out the door, clutching the reddened side of his face._

"_Where are you going?" Ahsimal asked Sargon._

"_I'm going to get some ice to stop the swelling," Sargon snapped. "Have a nice day."_

"_You don't want to be a vampire," Ahsimal said. "Find another way, lad. I'll support you, because I see so much potential in you. One of these days, you'll be famous worldwide."_

"_Yes," Riddle said, beaming. It was obvious he was taking in every word the teacher was saying "That's right."_

_Suddenly, the scenery changed…Riddle became Voldemort and Ahsimal was with him in the same classroom…_

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. For a moment, a pair of glowing, orblike amber eyes stared back at him in the middle of the dark night, and then blinked. "Are you awake, Mr. Potter?"

"I think so," Harry said nervously. "Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me?" the voice said, sounding as if it had sucked on about twenty helium balloons.

Instantly, Harry recognized who it was in the dark…it just had to be "Beastie?"

"In the flesh," said the little monster, sitting on the side of the bed. Harry felt his foot getting wet from under the covers. "You sleep restlessly, don't you, Mr. Potter? Are you having nightmares like the others are?"

"You can call me 'Harry' if you like; almost everybody does. Now, tell me, Beastie…what are you talking about? Who are the others?" Harry was absolutely confused by what the creature was trying to tell him.

"The others," Beastie repeated. "You want to know who they are, right?" When Harry nodded, Beastie let out a sigh that sounded a lot like a hiss. "A certain group of your teachers are all having constant nightmares; you're not alone, and you are _not_ the only person that Mortius wants. There's a certain professor of yours that he wishes to settle the score with. According to him, Mitzi Nezura was not supposed to have made it off the Hogwarts Express _alive_." He opened his rounded mouth, and hundreds of needle-sharp teeth could be seen, reflecting the light from the dim candles. "I know this because I spy on people. Any piece of knowledge in this school, I either see it first hand, or I let some of my helpers fill me in on what I miss. Your former crush on Cho Chang, for example; I know all about that."

"You do!" Harry jumped up out of bed. How did Beastie know about that? Had the little monster spotted him…or was Beastie a Legilimens like Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Mortius? "How…how did you…Cho…?"

Beastie just snorted and then jumped off the edge of the bed. _Squish, splat, squish_…"If I were you, I'd take a walk down Turret Row. It's four in the morning, so hardly anybody's up at this hour. You want to see how Darius and Morty did with their mission, don't you?"

"Who are you talking about?" Harry asked. "No, wait…Ahsimal and Skylarke, right?" Beastie nodded and then walked off. "Did they—Beastie?" Beastie had already left the room. "Beastie, where are you going?"

"I'm going to eat this pretty orange I stole from Adonis," Beastie said, grinning. He took one bite, and then the look of bliss on his face changed into one of serious disappointment…he looked like he was about to vomit. "Ugh…it's wax. That asshole _knows_ I steal his oranges, so I guess he put out a wax one tonight! Damn that Adonis Ebonyste!" Harry didn't really trust Ebonyste, but even he had to admit the man was very funny. He couldn't help but laugh at the unhappy, dripping monster. "What are you laughing at?" Beastie said sulkily. "You're not helping matters…I'm going to wreak havoc elsewhere; see you later, Harry."

Harry rushed down the corridors until he reached Turret Row. Just as Beastie had told him, Skylarke and Ahsimal had returned from their trip to Azkaban. With them were four hooded figures, but the hood fell down on one of them. Harry would have recognized that greasy black hair, sallow skin, and scowl a mile away…it was "Professor Snape?"

"Damn," Snape—the _real_ Snape—said angrily. "We've been spotted." He then saw the scar and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Potter, it's just you…why are you up at four in the morning?"

"I…" Harry really didn't know what to say. He wasn't going to bring himself to say anything like 'welcome back, Professor Snape,' because he really never liked Snape to begin with…even if it had been a fraud he had known since his Fourth Year. The last time he'd encountered the real Snape had been when he had tried his best to make sure that Sirius got kissed by a Dementor. It was not a heartwarming memory; Harry still missed Sirius.

"Morty told Potter about our plans, hoping he'd help us out," Ahsimal said, and gave Harry a very ominous look with his mauve eyes. Skylarke just let out a heavy sigh and stood between two other hooded figures. "Potter, you didn't tell anybody where we were and what we were doing…did you? Your Curses & Rootwork teacher trusts you enough to tell you something this important, and I hope you made sure to keep this a _secret_..."

"You don't see Lisa Turpin with me, do you?" Harry said dryly. "I told nobody."

"There was some sort of big commotion coming from the Great Hall by the time we got back," Skylarke said. "Harry, did anything happen while we were away?"

"Yeah," Harry said, trying his best not to notice that Snape was staring at him, "Cassandra killed Parenein..."

"Which Cassandra was it?" Snape blurted, hovering over Harry like an enormous vulture.

"Your niece," Harry said dryly to Snape. "Parenein planned to attack me from behind, but Cassandra got him first. While Professor Skylarke and Professor Ahsimal were getting you and these other people out of Azkaban…guess where your niece just went with a group of Aurors?" Snape's skin had turned the color of feta cheese. He whispered something into Skylarke's ear and then looked back at Harry, looking _very _ornery.

"You mean to tell me that I've been stuck in that Hell for almost three years…and now my brother's daughter is headed there right now for _life_?" Harry nodded, and Snape looked like he wanted to squeeze the life out of Harry with his bare hands. "You bastard..."

"Is this the same Cassandra that Claudius wanted you to spend some _quality time_ with?" When Snape gave the hooded man that said that a very rude hand gesture, Harry could catch a glimpse of the man's face…brass eyes and dark brown hair down to slightly below his chin. "I ran out of black hair dye thirteen years ago, when I started serving that sentence for Licinius. That asshole set me up…I'm really going to get him for this." The other hooded figure walked off and left the school, and didn't look back.

"Harry," Skylarke said, sounding upset to hear about Cassandra, but relieved to have gotten Snape and some other friends out of Azkaban. "Darius, Severus, and I would like to introduce you to a good friend of ours. This is Aurelius Fallowin." Fallowin pulled down his hood and smirked. "Severus is going to Diagon Alley to buy him another wand, because Aurelius's was taken from him when he went to Azkaban..."

"What do you think they did to _my_ wand, Morty?" Snape snarled at Skylarke.

"Mortius has it," Ahsimal said coolly. "It won't be any trouble at all for me to just use a little _Expelliarmus_ on him to get it back to its rightful owner. After all, who's been a Dark wizard longer, Severus…you or me?" He pulled his hair out of the long braid he'd kept it in, and that ghostly white hair trailed down to the floor once more. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. I want to take a little nap in my coffin for a couple of hours. We'll catch up at the next Nem..."

"Shut up," Skylarke said warily at Ahsimal. It had been a long time since Harry had heard Skylarke sound so intimidating. His Curses & Rootwork teacher was usually very laidback and let things go, but this really seemed to hit him hard. It was very important, obviously, to keep Ahsimal from spilling the secret, whatever it was. That just made Harry even more curious as to what his teachers were talking about with Fallowin. He had a pretty good feeling they weren't about to tell him, though. Skylarke hid stuff from him all the time. Things weren't going to change, even if Skylarke and Ahsimal had freed some of their friends. "You don't want him to know, do you?"

"I didn't know you were so jumpy about me saying the 'N' word, Morty," Ahsimal said, laughing a bit. "After all, you..."

"Darius, _shut up_," Skylarke threatened. "Harry's not the only person listening to this conversation. Now, if only I had Moody's magical eye, I could spot who's eavesdropping on us…"

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and fluttered once or twice; he looked as if he was being possessed, almost. He pointed a finger right in front of Snape and said flatly, "There." His eyes returned to normal, and his expression got back to the glum one Harry was familiar with by now. "Well, well, well…let's find out the name of our snoop, shall we?"

Snape reached behind the curtain and pulled out Loxias. "What the hell? Who are you?"

"Professor Loxias," she squeaked. "I'm the new Alchemy teacher..."

"I believe Icarus has only been dead for two hours, at the most, and Dumbledore's already hired a _new_ professor to take his place? It sounds fishy…fill us in on how you got the position, Loxias." Snape curled up his lips to reveal a horrid smile as he left Loxias dangling in the air.

"I'm better at Alchemy than Manipulations, and besides that, Alchemy is more important than Manipulations anyway, so I just switched placements..."

"When did you get _that_?" Ahsimal said, pointing at the Hawkbane badge on Loxias's robes.

"November 4th," Loxias said quickly. "All the Hawkbanes thought I've got what it takes to be a Hawkbane, so I was made one."

"BUT **I** DIDN'T APPROVE YOU!" Darius shouted. "I'm the Head Hawkbane, too! Damn you, Loxias, and go to Hell with your damn husband as soon as arrangements can be made."

Loxias looked quite unhappy about that remark. "You were the only one that _didn't_ approve me. Icarus, Claire, Lucinda, _and_ Alex approved me. I deserve to wear this badge more than you do, bloodsucker!" Ahsimal grabbed the petite woman by the neck roughly and let her feet dangle in the air as he lifted her off the ground, none too gently. "Aieeeeeee! Put me down, Darius!" When Ahsimal shook his head, Harry looked to see Snape and Fallowin were laughing. Skylarke, however, had his face buried in his gloved hands, probably embarrassed or upset by the actions of his friends. Whatever it was, he didn't seem to be enjoying it. "I…I can't…breathe…"

"That's because I'm choking you, Stanzi," Ahsimal said sarcastically as he continued to squeeze her neck. "Don't struggle and it'll go by a lot quicker for you."

"Darius," Snape said, "Perhaps Loxias has had enough. Do you really intend to get thrown into Azkaban for choking a timid little mouse like _that_?"

At that moment, Ahsimal dropped the cowering Alchemist to the floor. There was a soft thud, and then some unnecessary whimpering. "Let that be a warning to you. Never think of yourself as my equal, understand?" Loxias weakly nodded. "Good. Now get the Hell out of here." She didn't need telling twice; Harry had never seen anybody run that fast in his life. "Stupid bitch," Ahsimal grumbled angrily. "I'm going to get her one of these days, and you guys won't be there to hold me back." He then whispered something to Snape, Fallowin, the unknown fellow in the hood, and Skylarke. "I'm not lying."

"I believe you," Skylarke said, biting his lower lip. "Harry, what was the last thing you covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Mitzi?"

"Banshees," Harry said flatly.

"You _still _haven't covered lamiae?" When Harry shook his head to indicate he hadn't, Ahsimal seemed quite irritated by that. "You need to ask Mitzi about them. You're in a lot of danger if you are oblivious to them; even if there _are_ only twenty left in the world, nineteen out of those twenty are pure evil." Ahsimal looked up and scowled. "I might be wrong, but I believe Loxias is trying to cover up for one. Watch her talk to Mitzi next time, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Now, don't forget what I said; ask her at the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to tell you more about lamiae. You can't afford to know next to nothing about them."

"My sister-in-law is a lamia," Snape said flatly. "Of course, you three already know that. She's that one exception…I think." He stroked his forearm and then sighed. "I _could_ be wrong…" He turned toward Harry. "I still don't know why Cassandra attempted to rescue you."

Harry was getting quite irritated with Snape, more so than he had gotten with Mortius, and he really wanted his Potions Master to "shut up."

"Excuse me?" Snape said, his nostrils flaring. "Did _you_ just tell _me_ to shut up, Potter?" Harry cheekily nodded and admitted that he had. "You have no authority to do so. Ten points from Gryffindor for being rude to a teacher."

There was no doubt about it; there was no way that this was an impostor. "What the--!" another voice shouted from across the hall. It looked as if Snape was looking into a mirror, for here was the fraud standing right before him. "How…how did you…?"

"Mortius," Snape snarled. "Unlike you, I have people who planned to bust me out."

"_You _honestly don't think that _I _am Mortius, do you, Morty? What about you, Darius?" said Mortius, nervously. "You busted the _real_ Mortius out of Azkaban, you guys!"

"No…that's Severus; _you're_ the fraud," Fallowin snapped at Mortius. "You're just lucky that I don't have my wand with me, or you'd have been blasted into oblivion by now!"

"Empty threats," Mortius said, smiling. "They don't frighten me; you know that." Fallowin's clenched fists were whiter than Snape's face, and they were trembling by his side.

"Aurelius might not have his wand, but…" Skylarke turned to Harry and smirked. "I'm sure there's something Harry would like to say about all of this."

Harry didn't want to help Snape, but at least he knew that his Potions Master was on his side to an extent, and was more trustworthy than an _active_ Death Eater that had a record of hundreds of victims. "_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted.

Mortius looked furious as Snape's wand separated from his hands…after nearly three years. "You made a bad mistake, gentlemen!" Mortius shouted, and then shifted into his normal state. Had his skin not looked so much like a Dementor's, he would have been a very handsome man. With that sickly-white skin, the monstrous stitches on Mortius's right cheek were overwhelming. The dark purplish rings under his eyes and large, bone-colored teeth made his thin-skinned face seem quite skull-like. It was next to impossible to tell that there was any muscle in his face…it was almost as if the only thing between his bones and his skin was an intricate system of dried-up, thin black veins. If Mortius had been completely still and refrained from breathing or blinking, he could have passed as a corpse that had just begun the first stage of decomposition. Like last time, Harry could see the crucifix around Mortius's neck.

"You're fools to go against me!" He pointed a long, bony finger at Ahsimal. "Since you stepped down, I've become second in command! You were a true dunderhead to back down from such _power_, Darius." He held out his hands to Snape and Ahsimal. "Come on, you don't like how things are going for you now, now do you? If you beg forgiveness, perhaps the Dark Lord will pardon your betrayal." He glared at Snape. "Especially _your_ betrayal, Severus…why did you join the Order of the Phoenix? The Death Eaters were all for what you wanted, power and control. Didn't you like dealing out punishment to your adversaries as you felt was just? Admit it…you and Darius both miss that power."

Harry saw Snape and Ahsimal flinch as they clutched their left forearms. "No…you're wrong, Julius," Ahsimal snarled, "After the Skylarke family was destroyed, you got Adonis to kill Sargon. My love's death was the reason I deserted the Death Eaters…not because I grew weary of the power of the Dark Arts. Quite the contrary, actually…I found a better way to achieve my goals than to terrorize others." He showed Mortius his creepy-looking pewter ring; Snape and Fallowin did the same, seeing as they each had one as well. Skylarke made a gesture to show he was wearing one underneath his gloves. Something in Mortius's dark blue eyes seemed to stop shimmering with delight when he saw the rings. "You know what these are, right?"

Mortius violently nodded, and then ran away from Harry, Fallowin, and the three professors as fast as his corpselike legs could take him. "If it's a fight he's looking for, it's what he's going to find with me," Ahsimal said. "I'm pretty sure this won't be the last time we'll confront one another. He's probably going to take on the form of somebody else, so I think it would be wise if we would each check on our friends as often as possible."

Fallowin turned toward Harry. "Er…I haven't had a chance to say anything to you yet, but I'd like to, if that's okay with you."

"Go ahead," Harry said to Fallowin.

"The first thing I want to make sure you understand is that I knew Sirius Black, and I realized he was innocent. He knew that the reason I was in Azkaban was only because I was my brother's scapegoat," Fallowin looked nothing like Sirius, but it was clear that they both had the same aura. "All I did was vandalize Gringotts' Bank once or twice, and that's only a misdemeanor; not enough to give you a life sentence in Azkaban. Don't you agree with me about that?"

"_You_ did that, Mr. Fallowin!"

"I'd rather you call me Aurelius. I was nineteen when I was arrested, and let's just say that I don't feel like I'm thirty-two yet. Being called _Mr. Fallowin_ reminds me of my dad, Momus Fallowin, and I feel that I was deprived of my twenties-life. I'm making up for it now by making sure to enjoy whatever time I've got left. I believe that makes sense."

"Okay, Aurelius," Harry said. "How are you going to convince anyone else that you didn't murder the Skylarkes?"

"Morty can tell anyone who disbelieves me that I didn't commit that murder. It was _his_ family that was killed, after all," said Aurelius. "He knows every little detail about that Christmas…don't you, Morty?"

Skylarke nodded. "Most of it, actually…the last part, I can't remember too well."

"Well, that makes sense, my friend," Ahsimal said. "After what happened that night, you'd be sure to forget how it concluded." Skylarke did not seem to be enjoying his conversation with his friends too overly much, especially since they had started talking about the death of his family. Ahsimal then turned to Harry and said, "You have Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Alchemy, and Transfigurations today, I believe. After all, that _is_ the Hawkbane schedule for this Thursday, and Lucinda's still got you as her sponsored student, I believe." He reached out and shook hands with Harry. "I can see why Morty trusted you, lad. If my star student felt your life was worth protecting, I'm not going to argue. Perhaps in time, you and I can settle our differences in a civilized manner." Ahsimal walked gracefully off to Turret Thirteen, his lacey robes flowing behind him, like his long white hair.

"Darius, where are you going?" Snape asked, hoping to get a response from Ahsimal.

"My coffin," Ahsimal said curtly. "I need at least an hour of rest before I teach a class, otherwise I get cranky." He let out a long, hiss-like yawn. "I'll see you later…Severus, I'm glad that you and Aurelius are no longer in Azkaban, but I'm _really_ tired and will have to catch up with you later, due to the fact that I'm half-snoozing already." He laughed a bit and said, "Besides that, I need to catch up on my beauty sleep."

Aurelius and Skylarke went off to Turret Fifteen, leaving Harry alone with Snape…one of his least favorite people in the wizarding world. He didn't feel like catching up or doing any of that. It was almost five in the morning. Surely Nezura would be up, and he could check up on Godric again. Instead of going back to sleep, Harry went to Turret Eight, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. When he went in, he could see that Nezura already had another visitor inside her room—Loxias—and the two women were in a conversation of some kind that was getting Nezura to laugh. "Stanzi, that's what I like about you! You know how to cheer me up whenever I'm in a glum mood. Do you think Cassandra meant to kill Acorus?"

"Yes," Loxias said in a very passive voice. "Someone's at the door, Mitzi. How about I get it for you so you won't have to get up from working on your lesson plans?"

"You're too sweet, my friend," Nezura cooed. "You're so nice; I don't see why Fate hates you so much." Loxias looked as if she wanted to cry after that comment, but she opened the door to let Harry in. "Hey, Harry!" Nezura said, very excitedly. "I heard Cassandra killed Parenein to save _you_. Is it true or is it just another rumor?"

"It's not a rumor," Loxias said, looking at Harry. "Cassandra Snape got sent to Azkaban for the murder of Icarus Parenein. I saw the Aurors take her. You did too."

"I never liked her anyway," Nezura said, waving her hand vertically. "Harry, what have _you_ been up to? You've got Defense Against the Dark Arts right after breakfast today, but I love it when you come and visit before or after school hours. After all, you and Draco are the students I owe my life to."

Harry nodded. How many times had he heard Nezura say that? "What are we going to be covering today in class?"

"A study on gorgonixes…we're about to go into a chapter that deals with creatures that can possess you. After gorgonixes, we'll cover hellions, and maybe we'll get around to people that know how to possess others." Nezura turned toward Loxias, who was flinching. "Is something wrong, Stanzi? You're shaking all over, and look as if we're trying to kill you."

Loxias had started to cry, and then ran out, holding her temple in her long, spidery fingers. She slammed the door behind her, and left Harry and Nezura by themselves. "That was a bit odd," Harry said. "I wonder what got into her."

Nezura gave Harry a dirty look. "Stanzi Quirrell is my best friend, and has been so since I first met her when she was a Second Year Ravenclaw. She's one of the sweetest people I've ever met, and believes that if anything bad happens to somebody she's close to—poor dear—she thinks it's her fault in some way. When her husband died, you should have seen her. It was all this '_if only I had done this_' and '_this was my entire fault_' stuff issuing from her mouth. However, she got over that pretty quickly, and I found that a bit strange. Sure, she's ornery about it, but I don't see her get too upset about that particular death too often anymore." Nezura weakly smiled at Harry, "Look, I know you had no other choice; Quirrell had devoted himself to You-Know-Who, and was trying to kill you. It was strictly a _kill or be killed_ moment, and I'm glad to see he didn't get rid of you like he was planning to do."

"How did you find out about that?" Harry asked. He wasn't nervous about Nezura knowing about that…he just wanted to know how that had happened. "Did you talk to Lewn since she's a Clairvoyant or something?"

"Dumbledore told me all about it," she said. "I was an active Auror at that time. Now I just take on one or two cases a year." Nezura pouted her bottom lip and said, "I know I'm far from becoming the next Mad-Eye Moody, but it's worth a shot." She buttoned up the jacket on her three-piece pinstripe suit and put on a little matching hat. She dressed like this most of the time, so Harry assumed that Nezura liked to look like she meant business in her class. "Want a doughnut, Harry?"

Harry was confused. Hadn't he been talking to Nezura about what had happened to Quirrell? '_So now Mitzi wants to talk about her career and food_,' he thought. "Sure," he said, taking one that was covered in chocolate. Nezura picked up one that had strawberry icing and rainbow sprinkles. "Is there any reason why you have doughnuts?"

"I hate eating breakfast in the Great Hall," Nezura said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "I have reason to believe that somebody is stalking me." She showed Harry a pink letter with magenta hearts on it. "I got this the other day. Go on, read it."

Harry opened the letter up; it smelled strongly of violets:

_Mitzi Katherine Nezura,_

_**Roses aren't necessarily red**_

_**Violets are purple, not blue**_

_**Sugar is sweet, but it can give you cavities**_

_**By the way, I really like you**_

_How did you like my poem, cutie? I meant what I said in the poem (yes, sugar _does_ give you cavities, so don't eat it that much unless you want to wear dentures by the time you're forty). Also, I really do like you. You're adorable, and I love the way you act so tough._

_Your Secret Admirer,_

**Adonis Ebonyste**

"Sad, isn't it?" Nezura said, a bit pink in her cheeks. "I write down every clue he leaves me. Yesterday, he wrote that he likes tacos. I wonder if he's a romantic!"

Harry wasn't too interested in Nezura's love life, but he found the message to be rather funny. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of guy would write about cavities in a love note…obviously Ebonyste. He took a bite out of his doughnut and decided it would be best to join Nezura for breakfast. That way, he wouldn't have to listen to all the gossip about Cassandra's arrest until Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and he'd be able to pay attention to a lesson on, "WAIT! Did you say we're covering gorgonixes!" When Nezura nodded, Harry was a bit surprised. "That's what Skylarke believes is causing most of the recent deaths at Hogwarts!"

"We cleaned out Icarus's room and found his diary," Nezura said, and then wiped a tear from her eye. "It turns out that there is a whole _chain_ of Death Eaters and servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at Hogwarts. Icarus was one of them, but there _are_ others…the only other names he gives directly are _Cain Cyanis_ and _Julius Cantarus_, but he mentions that there are five of them including someone he called _the creature's keeper_. The Creature's probably what Skylarke believes is the gorgonix. IcarusandMortius strangled Wolfe to death; he really _did_ have intentions of killing you, and that's exactly what he was about to try to do in the hallway. It turns out that Cassandra was ahead of him one step and muttered another Death Curse." She sighed. "I was there to hear her confession. I felt like somebody was watching us, but I had no idea who it was..."

"It was me," Harry said. "I didn't want to leave Cassandra by herself after she did that."

"That was pretty noble of you," Nezura said, and then laughed. "You need to find yourself a girlfriend, Harry. I'm sure there are several at this school that might be potential soul mates." She elbowed him and said, "I think Cassandra Snape kind of liked you..."

"As a friend," Harry snapped. A very nasty image was filling his mind…Cassandra trying to kiss him. Sure, Cassandra wasn't necessarily ugly, but Harry didn't find himself attracted to her at all. She was just a loyal friend, nothing more. He still thought Cho was gorgeous, but he thought Naomi Fenrir was pretty as well, and the loveliest woman he'd seen in ages had been Cassandra's own mother, but _Cassandra_…no, he didn't like Cassandra in that way. "She's just a friend, and I don't think she viewed me as anything more than that."

"Very sacrificial, though," Nezura said, giggling. "I wish I had a _friend_ that loyal, that would lay down his or her life for me if I was in danger. You're lucky she was there."

"Can we talk about something else? I don't want to talk about that," Harry said flatly. Suddenly, the bell rang, and everyone started rushing in. "Great…here comes the crowd…"

"Harry!" Hermione said, rushing up to her friend. "I heard about what happened to Cassandra…did Parenein hurt you?" Harry explained that Parenein hadn't had a chance to do so. "Cassandra used the Death Curse on him?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "She used some sort of spell that made Parenein choke to death on his own tongue."

Hermione squirmed in her seat. "Ugh…I know what that was. The words were _Malidicitus Corpsus_, and it's a pretty complicated spell. Most people have a lot of difficulty using an Asphyxiation Charm." She sighed and said cynically, "She gets caught murdering a Hawkbane professor with black magic. Even if she _does_ get out, I doubt her record will be cleared. If she had any scholarships, I bet they've been revoked."

"I can't believe she got herself caught," Ron said. "I thought vampires were good at hiding…especially at night."

"She's not a full vampire," said Rhianna, scooting closer to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "Her mother was one, but her father was human."

"But, I thought Ahsimal..."; Harry didn't know what Rhianna was talking about.

"Ahsimal bit Cassandra when she was really little, that's a fact, but he didn't give her any vampire's elixir. He just drew blood. Cassandra's mum, however, comes from a famous clan of vampires and is one of the most powerful ones in her family, second only to her younger brother, Lawrence. Cassandra's dad is Snape's older brother...and a real asshole." Rhianna rolled her eyes. "He kicks the house elves _and_ Pandora." She pulled out How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming, and finished up with, "Pandora's the family cat, and she's a very pretty Turkish van. She's not very bright, though; I have reason to believe that friendly fur-ball's the family idiot."

Ron stifled a laugh, but Hermione giggled. Harry, however, wanted to see what the other Slytherins were doing. Apparently, they were all wondering why none of them had seen Cassandra. "It's time for us to begin our lesson, everyone!" Nezura shouted, holding up a medium-sized index finger on her tiny left hand. Her little glasses had slid down to her nose, and her cheeks had turned pink. "Open up How to Prepare Yourselves for What's Surely Coming to Chapter Fifteen, section two. Our last lesson, we covered basic possession. Today, we'll be continuing with gorgonixes. So, tell me…how many of you already _know_ what a gorgonix is? Oh, good! I see a lot of hands! So all of you know that a gorgonix is an evil creature that uses a witch or wizard with a weak will or faint aura as a host and will manipulate them to their every whim?" When everyone nodded to indicate they already knew that, Nezura had a humongous grin on her petite face. "Good job, students, but can you tell me how I can see who might be possessed by one?" Everyone's hands went down, save Hermione's and Harry's. "Hermione, dear, how about you inform the class about one way you can tell if someone has a gorgonix inside them?"

"If there is a thin ring of white light surrounding the pupil in the person's eye, they are the host of a gorgonix or hellion," Hermione said coolly. Harry sighed; he knew that already, because Sebastian had taught him a while back about how he knew Tellulan had a gorgonix. "Also, if you see a mist of some kind around a person's reflection in a mirror, yet it's not supposedly there in reality, then you have a gorgonix host."

"There's one other way you can tell," Nezura said. "Let's see if you know it, Hermione. It's not mentioned _once _in any of the textbooks, but I learned it at the Aurors Academy!" She then blinked dramatically and said, "Wait, I take that back…Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock wrote a book about all the different ways a person can get possessed in 1995 called Life of an Exorcist that tells about it, but I doubt anybody but Slytherins actually read Dr. Hemlock's work at this school!"

"Dr. Hemlock's the Dark Arts guru," Malfoy said, beaming. "My dad got her to sign all of my Necromancy books. After all, she wrote them all, and my whole family appreciates this woman's true genius." He let out a laugh, and Marcus joined in. "I bet she might even know more about the Dark Arts than You-Know-Who in some spots."

"She might not be as powerful as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but she probably _does_ know more about the Dark Arts. It wouldn't surprise me," Nezura said, shivering. "Have any of you seen what she looks like? That woman is _scary_." She looked at the clock and nearly jumped a foot in the air. "We _really_ need to stay on topic! We'll have a discussion about Dr. Hemlock or whatever _after_ our next test. _Now is not the time for chit-chat!_ I've got something I need to teach you, so that's top priority at present! The third way you can tell if a gorgonix is in a person is if their eyes glow blue in the dark on a new moon. I think the most reliable way is the mirror test, but that's just me." She drew a picture of something that looked similar to a demon on the board, and said loudly, "According to the present theory about gorgonixes, they're supposed to look like this if they don't have a human host. They are shape-shifting creatures, and even if their host isn't a Metamorphmagus, they can make their host change forms at their command. These transformations are so perfect, even the fingerprints are identical to the original being they're trying to copy. It's next to impossible to detect the difference from gorgonix prints and the actual person's fingerprints. I think only Exorcists know how to tell, because I don't know a single Auror that can see any difference…not even Mad-Eye Moody. Now…are there any questions so far?" Nobody raised their hand. "Good…we'll move on to the next part about gorgonixes, then. Open up your books to section three of Chapter Fifteen. Notice the diagram on the page to your left for a moment. It shows you what gorgonixes do when they no longer need their host. It's not pretty."

Harry looked at the diagram:

**A person is shown looking rather normal, save the white rim on his pupils**

**A look of horror shows up on the person's face**

**The person gets down on his knees and starts to thrash about**

**A glowing, red mist seeps out of every opening in the person's body, but especially from the face. There are screams of agony coming from the host.**

**The gorgonix is released, and either all or most of the person's soul is taken out as well.**

**The host dies more than 99.9 of the time.**

**If the host survives, the outlook is quite grim and the aftermath will leave him/her as if they had gotten a Dementor's Kiss**

**The corpse decomposes very quickly**

"This is disgusting!" Pansy Parkinson shouted when she was done.

"Yes, I know it is, but you've got to learn the material," Nezura said icily. "Now, somebody tell me what that process is called." She looked around, and beamed. "You tell me, Parvati."

Parvati Patil looked up and then said in a rather nervous voice, "Crashing out?"

"That is correct," Nezura said, and handed Parvati a piece of candy for her answer. She went over to Hermione's desk and gave her a piece as well…gum that never lost its flavor. "Thanks for answering my questions." She jumped on top of her desk and said, "Gorgonixes cannot be removed safely without harming the host unless a highly-skilled Exorcist does it. When a gorgonix is released in its free will, most of the time the host will die painfully and miserably. Like with Medusa and her two sisters, if you look a gorgonix straight in the eye, you'll turn into stone. Do any of you remember a cure-all spell I suppose Professor Skylarke showed you in Curses & Footwork?"

"_Scyllis Minemata,"_ Harry said. "It supposedly cures everything save possession or death."

"It doesn't heal petrification, either," Nezura said flatly. "We lost the Transfigurations teacher before Minerva McGonagall to a gorgonix. She's now that statue of the old crone you see in the courtyard. It's a pity, really, but now we have Minerva, who's far better than Ruby anyway." She sighed. "If you get petrified by a gorgonix, only a person of the Shadow family could take the spell off you. Legend has it that they descended from Medusa, and have the power to petrify others. If any of you talk to Atticus, I'm sure he'll give you all the details. That's the reason he wears sunglasses all the time, poor dear. He's a good lad, but his family has such an awful reputation." She pulled out a nail file and began to manicure her fingernails. "Okay, does anyone want to make a guess at to what gorgonixes are afraid of?"

"Mirrors," Seamus said, not raising his hand. Nezura wasn't picky about this, unlike Umbridge had been just last year. "They're afraid of mirrors because they can be exposed in its reflection." When he saw that Nezura was shaking her head, Seamus sighed. "Was that wrong?"

"Yes," Nezura said flatly. "Want to take another guess, anybody?"

"What about water?" Neville asked. "Water reflects light as well."

"They hate water, but they don't fear it, according to Dr. Hemlock," said Nezura. "_Yes_, I've read a couple of Hemlock books. Don't look so surprised, everyone! They're _required_ in every wizarding college nowadays, so you might as well start reading some of her stuff_ now_. Does anyone _else_ want to give a guess?"

"Anything that reflects light," Lavender said, but it sounded as if it was a question.

"Nope; you're wrong, too. The only things gorgonixes fear are people with strong auras and powerful Exorcists," Nezura said. "It won't hesitate to kill, _especially_ if somebody is standing in the way of its objective. Gorgonixes are complicated creatures, and are rather difficult to face. Since I'd probably be sent to Azkaban if I brought one in here—the reason being that some of you have a weak will—I thought it would be best to at least inform you about gorgonixes, so you won't be in the dark about what they are and what they can do to careless folk. Now, let's move on to hellions…how do they differ from gorgonixes?"

After Defense Against the Dark Arts was over, Harry had Potions with Snape. For some odd reason, a sudden urge to use the bathroom came into effect as soon as Harry was in his seat and the bell rang. He squirmed at his desk, and everyone could tell that he wasn't feeling oh-so-great. It felt like his gut wanted to explode; the doughnut he had accepted from Nezura hadn't agreed with him too well after all. He needed to use a bathroom, and _fast_.

"Well, students, I'm sure that Lisa Turpin has already informed all of you about the fact that it was an impostor that had been teaching you for a couple of years now. Therefore, it might take me a moment to see where Mortius last left off while I was stuck in Azkaban…" Snape looked through the progress reports that the Death Eater had left behind and his jaw dropped. "You're _so_ far behind; I'd expect _Fourth Years_ to be on this level!" He sighed and said heavily, "Did you at least get an 'Acceptable' on your O.W.L.s last year?" When everyone nodded to indicate they had, Snape looked quite confused. "That just doesn't make sense…Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter passed?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Ron said sarcastically.

"Yes," Snape said, scowling at Harry. "It is _very_ hard to believe." He went to the front of the classroom and shouted, "We are going to be making a potion that will kill its drinker painlessly in two seconds after ingestion. You will need a _lot_ of oleander leaves, yew berries, and _one_ stingray spine each to begin with. I will personally hand you the gypsum and a vial of vulture blood, because I am in very short supply of those two items at present. I can't afford to spare any more. If this keeps up for another week, I'll need to borrow some more gypsum from your Curses & Rootwork teacher. I'm sure Skylarke's got plenty to spare, and I know for a fact he's not a supply miser like Cyanis. You will place the oleander leaves in gently, one-by-one, and will then add the blood. Let it simmer for two minutes, but watch it _carefully_. I'd hate for any of you to intoxicate yourselves on my first day back."

Harry raised his hand. He knew this was risky; the real Snape wouldn't let anyone out of his classroom while a class was in session, even if it _was_ an emergency. "Professor," Harry said, "may I please be excused?" His stomach was turning somersaults.

"What for, Potter?" Snape said icily from his desk. He didn't even look up.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Harry said, trying to remain calm. Malfoy was laughing at him. His lower half was in complete torture. It felt as though it was about to burst open…he clutched it in agony. He knew that he had to defecate as soon as possible.

"Hold it until the bell rings," Snape said as he continued to read his book, 1001 Ways to Torment Your Nemesis by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, with delight. He seemed to be yet another Dr. Hemlock fan, but Harry already knew that. He'd seen a couple of memories where Snape had been reading them. He saw the name that was etched on the side in silvery ink as well…that was Sebastian's copy. Snape _still_ had the books he'd borrowed from _his_ Potions Master years ago.

"The bell rings in two hours, Professor! _This can't wait!_" Harry said. He knew he probably couldn't even hold it another _five minutes_. He felt like he was going to die if this didn't get proper attention shortly. His abdomen was burning and contorting itself into all sorts of horrid shapes.

"It's simply a full bladder, Potter, not an emergency." Snape curled up his lip to reveal a very foul grin. His teeth were just as yellow and crooked as Harry remembered. "I am _not_ going to let you cut my class…it's mandatory you stay in here."

"Sir, you don't understand!" Harry said, growing impatient. "This can _not_ wait!"

"Very well," Snape said as he opened the door. "That equals a detention, and twenty points from Gryffindor, you know."

"I really don't care right now," Harry snarled as he rushed out toward the bathroom to let out his bowel bomb. It seemed as if it took him forever to reach the boys' bathroom further down the hall. When he got there, he realized it was locked. "Damn," he muttered, and then realized Snape hadn't given him a hall pass. "DAMN!"

Harry could hear music coming from the room next to the bathroom. The sign over the door read: **Mme. Twitchett's Hogwarts Band & Orchestra**. "No, no, no, no, no! Atticus, I wanted you to play that piece in G minor harmonic, not in _B flat major!_ Honestly, you're one of the most stubborn trombone players I've had in a long time!" Harry knocked on the door and a short, pudgy little lady with curly, strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail opened the door. She was wearing her teacher's robes, but she'd stitched a caricature of a baby dragon on her left shoulder. "Can I help you, Potter?" she said, her voice not exactly sweet. She looked nice, but her voice implied that she was used to being in charge, typical of a band & orchestra director even in the Muggle world.

"Have you got the key to the boys' bathroom?" Harry asked, not in the mood for small talk. This was going to be so embarrassing for him if he didn't make it to that bathroom in time. "It's sort of an emergency."

"Yeah, I've got a key," Madame Twitchett said, heading back into her room slowly. Harry could see Atticus, Naomi, and a few other people he recognized in there, playing various musical instruments. Naomi had a piccolo, and Atticus was sitting in his wheelchair with a trombone. "Hold on, it's in here somewhere," said the squat little teacher. Madame Twitchett finally opened up her desk drawer and handed Harry the key. "Return it to me when you're done."

"I will," Harry said as he swiped the key from the director. He sprinted over to the bathroom, unlocked the door, rushed to the closest toilet stall and sat down…but the door wouldn't close. He was lucky nobody else was in there. He relieved himself, flushed, and went to the sink to wash his hands. He then realized that the stall he'd used was out of order. "Damn." He was glad he hadn't made too much of a mess, but he still felt rather sick. Suddenly, he heard gagging noises coming from one of the toilets. "Hello?" he said, curious. "Beastie, is that you?"

"Yes; it's me!" Beastie snapped. "Thanks for the gift from Hell. I thought we were friends! I _live_ in these toilets, you know!" Beastie giggled and then said, "Oh, by the way, this isn't the boys' bathroom. It's the girls' bathroom…and a favorite place for those Second Year Slytherin girls to hang out. They cut class here…but you're lucky only _I _saw you this time."

"Will you keep this quiet?" Harry pleaded. "Please, Beastie…"

"I'll shut up if you give me an orange at dinner," Beastie said flatly.

"Okay, I'll do that, just keep this just between us, got it?" For some odd reason, this reminded Harry of the time he had tried pleading with Dobby not to disturb Uncle Vernon's guests when he was twelve. He just hoped he didn't get the same outcome with the toilet monster.

"I got it, stink king!" Beastie said, "I'm some comedian…" he leapt into a clean toilet and stuck his black, froggy head out of the bowl. "Just remember to return that key to Mia..."

"Wait a minute…who?" Harry said, unsure of who was Mia…then it hit him. "You mean Madame Twitchett, right?" Beastie nodded and left. Harry washed his hands for a second time and then ran out of the girls' bathroom, hoping nobody saw him.

His luck ran out; Ron's little cousin, Winnefred, saw him. "What were you doing in there?" Winnefred said, giggling. "Were you _that_ curious as to how a girls' toilet looked? You're weird!"

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to the Band & Orchestra room. "Come on in, Potter," said Madame Twitchett. "Do you have the key?" When Harry handed it back to her, she sniggered a bit. "Oh, dear…I'm sorry I gave you the wrong one; many apologies on my behalf."

Harry trudged back over to the Dungeon and opened the door. He glided in and took his seat…his misadventure had taken him less than ten minutes, and he was relieved to see that Hermione had been working on his potion while he was away. "Thanks, Hermione," he said.

"It's not a problem," said Hermione. "You'll have to copy my notes on oleander later. Snape says we have to complete a six-foot essay on oleander, hemlock, and yew berries by our next lesson…and he wants it done like the stuff Loxias assigns. It's a shame I can't study with Cassandra anymore. She really focused on her work."

"My niece had a very bright future ahead of her, unlike you," Snape said, quite bitterly. "Keep your eyes on your own work…five points from Gryffindor." When Snape wasn't looking, Hermione rolled her eyes at his comment. "Where were you, Potter?" Snape said, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "Did it take you that long to get to a lavatory…or did you decide to waste ten of _my_ minutes?" He then saw the greenish hint on Harry's face, and realized this hadn't been a trick. "You weren't faking?" Snape said coldly. "I guess I won't take points off for that this time, but it is _still_ a detention for me, Potter."

"Fine then," Harry snapped back. "Maybe next time I'll just shit in my pants so you and everyone else can savor it too!" Everyone in there (save Snape) burst out in laughter; even Malfoy and the other Slytherins found the crude humor in that angry remark.

Snape's face turned beet red. "One hundred points from Gryffindor, Potter! You'll be having detention with me for the rest of the week!" At that moment, Crabbe's potion exploded in Goyle's face. "Go trade cauldrons with Crabbe and start over."

"I can't believe you went off on Snape like that," Ron said, grinning. "Harry, that was wicked! You need to do that more often, mate." He laughed loudly, "You _did _see the look on his face, didn't you? Having detention with him for a week would almost be worth it!"

"_I_ saw the look on his face, too," Hermione said, but she didn't seem to be laughing anymore. "He looked as if he really wanted to hurt you this time, Harry. I'd be careful around him; after all, Snape's spent a couple of years in Azkaban. He might not be on our side after all."

"What have we got next?" asked Harry. He had already forgotten what Ahsimal had said the Hawkbane course for the day had been, and he wasn't sure if it was his next course or the one after that. "Hermione, do you or Ron know?"

"I haven't got a clue," Ron said, pulling out a picture of Celia to look at. "Isn't she cute?"

"Yeah…cute," Hermione said, sighing. "Ron, lately the only thing you're ever talking about is Celia. Do you think she's perfect or something?"

"I don't think she's perfect," Ron said, looking at Hermione. "I just think she's marvelous."

Hermione looked quite irritable at this point. "Ron! We've got to start heading over to Turret Six. Since Parenein's dead, I wonder who our new Alchemy professor..."

"It's Loxias," Harry said, not quite excited by that news. "She's switching her career from Manipulations to Alchemy. Honestly, and I thought that the first Quirrell was bad. I'm sure this one's going to raise Hell with me." He wondered how on Earth that dreadful woman and Nezura had become friends in the first place…they were nothing alike. Nezura was fiery and brave, a true Gryffindor; Loxias was…well…_Loxia_.

"You've got to see things from her point of view," Hermione said. "After all, Harry; you made her a widow five years ago. I'm sure that's why she's holding a grudge. If it was someone else besides you that had hurt her so badly, I'd feel very sorry for her." She patted Harry on the shoulder. "But, you had your reasons, and I'm sure you have no remorse for your actions."

"You're right," Harry said. "I don't, but I really don't have much sympathy for someone that thinks I'm out to kill her whenever I'm in a five-foot radius of her."

"I have to agree with you, Harry," Ron said. "It's obvious she's nutters."

As the three friends started walking, they saw Furrier looking quite upset about something while he was talking to Skylarke, who was rubbing him behind the ear. Furrier's tail was swishing back and forth, and he was making unhappy-kitty noises along with his grumbling. At that moment, Josh and Atticus caught up with the group. "Hello," said Atticus, looking as friendly as he normally did, his sunglasses still covering his eyes. "How is everyone doing today?"

"We're just great," Harry said. "What about you guys?"

"Just…peachy," said Josh, pulling a strand of highlighted hair out of his face. "I thought that Cassandra would be with you guys. After all, don't Sixth Year Slytherins and Gryffindors share all their regular classes together?"

"She'd be with us," said Harry, narrowing his eyes at Josh, "if she was still at Hogwarts."

"Did she move overnight?" Atticus asked. "I do believe you have confused me…"

"Parenein's dead," Ron said, "and Cassandra's in Azkaban for his murder; she confessed."

"I _told _you that she was the one murdering all these people over here!" Josh shouted; he was looking quite impressed with his stroke of genius and _I-told-you-so_ attitude. "There was no gorgonix to begin with; Skylarke was wrong. We just had an adolescent vampire wreaking havoc all over the school, preying upon its innocent students as if we were nothing but cattle! Cassandra Snape has _finally_ been captured by our magnificent British Aurors, so this reign of terror has ended. We can all sleep a lot easier, now that we know that the killer is rotting alive in Azkaban, paying for her crime. I'm delighted."

"She killed Parenein because he was going to kill me," snapped Harry, getting quite angry with Josh for badmouthing the person that had watched his back for him not even a full day ago.

"Can you prove that Parenein was really that evil, or is that just what Cassandra told you to shut you up?" Josh asked. It was so obvious he was enjoying every moment of this.

"The Dark Mark was on his arm, damn it!" Harry thundered at Josh. "And…Nezura found his diary while they were cleaning out his room for the next Alchemy professor. He clearly stated that he, Mortius, and a few others were responsible for the deaths here…as well as something he referred to as simply _the creature_. Nezura's under the impression that it's the gorgonix Skylarke's been insisting upon since our first day back at Hogwarts. Cassandra didn't kill anyone else; she killed Parenein so he wouldn't kill _me_. I doubt that you'd do something that noble for a friend."

"Nothing's safer than your own skin," Josh said backing up from Harry. "I'd do something like that for Atticus or Celia, but not you guys. I just met you this year, and it takes me a while to warm up to people." He scowled at Ron and said, "Jerk; you knew how much Celia meant to me!"

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, and got a smug look on his face. "I think she's happier with me."

"Are you looking for a fight?" Josh threatened, rolling up his sleeves. Everyone could see not only his neatly tanned skin, but his rather prominent biceps. It was apparent that he lifted weights every day…how else could he have gotten muscles like that? "You just found one!"

"Save it for later," Atticus said, elbowing Josh in the abdomen. "We've got Alchemy, remember? It isn't Social Hour yet." He started wheeling over toward near the middle of Turret Row. "That bell is going to ring any minute!" Everyone took Atticus's advice and started going as fast as they could to the Alchemy classroom. They all knew that Loxias would be quite irate if any of them were late for her class.

It turned out that Harry and his friends weren't the last students to enter Loxias's new classroom; it was Marcus and Malfoy. The familiar smell of aloe and eucalyptus-scented candles filled the room. Those enormous, antique mirrors had been hung up as well. The rusty orange curtains and dark pewter walls were the same, except all the copies of _Playboy_, _Penthouse_, and _Girls Gone Wild _had been replaced with an enormous collection of various editions of The Quibbler and The Evening Oracle. The small, framed photograph of Quirrell was on the desk, and so was the enormous chunk of pyrite. Glowing rusty orange crystals were floating up in the air with rusty orange spun glass spheres. It was the same style as how the Manipulations room had looked, but the color scheme was drastically different from the pale jade and cedar floor. This had a much more Gothic appearance, while the other one had looked more like a part of a house. The cushions were still there, and the mosaic was still on the floor. However, the bust and picture of the younger Icarus Parenein were gone. In their places were a bust of Quirrell, and the enormous painting of the never-ending staircase optical illusion. Also, a lot of interesting-looking, small metal objects were dangling from the tourmaline chandelier. They all looked like Sickles with some really weird sign on them. It looked like two snakes devouring each-other's tails, to form a circle. Parenein's old mirror was in there as well, on the desk. Harry was reminded of Cassandra's mirror…where were her things, including that magic mirror?_ 'Maybe I should ask Snape,'_ he thought. The bell rang, and there was _still_ no sign of Loxias. Lisa was the first to ask the question; "Where _is_ she?"

It soon became the topic of conversation among all the students…where could Loxias be if she wasn't in class? At that moment, the door opened. Loxias's eyes were flooded with tears, and there was a dark purple bruise on her neck. She quickly put the vermilion scarf over it; it didn't take Harry too long to realize that was why Loxias wore that thing. "Sorry to keep you waiting, everyone," she said, sounding quite upset. "I…I had a run in with somebody." She went to her desk and wiped her eyes; she sniffled a little, but was trying her best not to put on a show for the students. After she blew her nose quietly into a piece of tissue paper, she looked up at the class and said, "I'm not going to be teaching Manipulations anymore. From now on, I'm going to be your Alchemy teacher until I die or retire."

"Who's going to be teaching Manipulations?" Isis asked.

"How should I know?" Loxias said very dryly to the pretty Ravenclaw.

"Let's see…" Josh said, "…you're a Hawkbane, aren't you?"

"That I am," Loxias said, raising an eyebrow at Josh's comment. "What are you saying?"

"Wouldn't Dumbledore, the Heads of the Houses, and the Hawkbanes know anything about a new professor for an empty post? Isn't it sort of odd that _two_ teachers have died already and they were _both_ in the Hawkbane Society? You might be next, you know." Josh smiled and then whispered to Harry, "In case you haven't figured it out, I loathe Loxias just as much as you do; I think she's going to do something evil by the end of the year to you or someone else. Oh well; better you than me, right?"

"Yeah…" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Right, Josh…"

"Parenein is dead, the impostor Snape isn't teaching a class at Hogwarts anymore, and Cassandra is now facing a life sentence in Azkaban. I think it's safe to say that our culprit is either dead or elsewhere," Loxias sounded so sure of herself…or at least hopeful. "Let's move on to Alchemy, shall we? Where did you last leave off? Unlike Wolfe, it seems Icarus didn't keep organized lesson plans. Just…_porno_."

"We were beginning our lesson on electrum," said Hermione. "You know; the mixture of silver and gold? Professor Parenein was about to show us how to separate and join the two for our next lesson."

"You were that _ahead_?" Loxias said, sounding quite amazed. She seemed to have calmed down quite a bit since her thundering in the Manipulations room; she was a lot softer-toned and seemed to be very careful with everything she was handling. "For you and a few others, Granger, I am afraid to say that didn't surprise me too much. However, for the class as a _whole_…that's quite an accomplishment. Needless to say, I'm very much impressed with the level you're working on—the N.E.W.T. level, actually—and perhaps we can take a small break today since we're so far ahead of schedule, even for the elite class in the entire school." She looked at the gold rose pin she had on her night sky-patterned robes and then looked at a small pendant around her neck that had the Hawkbane insignia on it. When she started to gaze at it, a very weak smile curled up on her lips, and she looked as if she was about to cry again. "I'll be back shortly," she said, walking to the door.

"Hold on a minute, Professor Loxias!" said Celia. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," Loxias said very meekly. "I was going to see if the House elves could make us a small treat to celebrate how well you're already doing in here." '_This can't be the same teacher that nearly hounded half the class in Manipulations about research references_,' Harry thought, confused. What was that woman up to? "Oh, er…Wells? May I leave you in charge while I'm off to see what the house elves can scrounge up for us?"

"I don't see why you'd have any problems with that choice," Celia said, turning a bit pink in her cheeks. "Is there any reason why you picked _me_?"

"I know you're a responsible young lady," Loxias said. "After all, _you_ remembered to write down your references in Manipulations that day, and you didn't give me any trouble." She stood up in front of the class and said in a very mousy tone, "You'll have to forgive me for being so hot-tempered the other day. I was in a very rotten mood." Right before she left the room, Loxias scurried over to Harry's desk and whispered something very disturbing in his ear; "How did you like that doughnut Mitzi gave you this morning?"

"Did you poison it!" Harry said loudly, hoping his voice would carry around the room. There was an awkward silence, and Loxias's right eyelid began to twitch. Everyone was listening to what he had shouted, and had gotten closer to see what Loxias would say next. "Nezura wouldn't give me a lethal doughnut on purpose, so it had to be _you_ that tainted it! I just_ know_ it was you!"

"You're right," Loxias said, beaming with delight. "I did mess around with your doughnut, but I didn't poison it. However, I _will_ admit that I tainted it." She didn't seem to be so discreet about the doughnut business anymore; people could hear her, but she showed no traces of being intimidated by that knowledge. She started opening up the drawers in her pewter-and-tourmaline desk and said in a very satisfied voice, "You'd like to know what I used to make your gut turn somersaults, wouldn't you? Don't worry; it isn't deadly, but it does its job very well." She looked about and muttered, "It's got to be in here somewhere…Ah! That's where I put it!" With a look of sadistic pleasure on her face, a big smile with sparkling white teeth in her pretty little mouth, she said in a tone everyone recognized as sounding triumphant, "Epsom salt…a natural laxative."

Harry seemed to be the only one that didn't find that funny. Even Ron and Hermione were howling with laughter. "Shut up," he snapped at them. He cast a very dirty look at Loxias, hoping she'd back off. Lucky for him, that's exactly what she did, and she looked quite nervous now.

Loxias let out a very hurried and forced-sounding laugh and rushed to the door. "Er…I'll be back in a moment with our refreshments, and I won't be playing practical jokes for the rest of the day. I just thought you might want to know that in case you were a bit wary of accepting snacks from me at the moment. I don't really _hate_ any of you," her voice seemed to be telling the truth, but Harry felt he knew better. Loxias telling the whole truth was just about as rare as Snape handing out homework passes…it never happened, as far as Harry knew. Loxias then smiled again sweetly to the entire class and closed the door behind her. "Be good for Wells while I'm out!"

"Okay, Professor Loxias!" everyone shouted in unison. After Loxias _finally_ left the room, Harry was relieved. Skylarke and Ahsimal made him have quite uneasy and suspicious thoughts, Phoebus and Nezura made him have courageous and kind thoughts, and as for Loxias…she made him feel as if he really _was_ the vindictive monster she made him out to be. He was itching for a chance to get her alone and tell her what all happened to Quirrell, just to make her squirm about in fright. He hated the fact that she'd played a very nasty prank on him, and that even his two best friends had found the matter funny. It hadn't been a laughing matter to _him_; Beastie had seen him crap in a girls' toilet. "I'm so glad she's gone," Harry said, letting out a very heavy sigh, "at last!"

"It's obvious that you really dislike Loxias, Harry," said Isis.

"_Dislike_ is an understatement," Harry snapped. "I _hate_ her."

"It's understood," said Ron. "If I'd been in your place, I'd hate her too. However, I _do_ think she has a rather good sense of humor, and I know Fred and George would be in awe of her practical joke skill…that was ingenious. Come on, and admit it; if it had been Malfoy instead of you, you _know_ you'd have been laughing along with the rest of us."

"Not everybody likes you," Rhianna said flatly to Harry. "Loxias is all the evidence you'd need to prove _that_ theory correct. It's clear that she hates you with a passion." She raised an eyebrow and then whispered in his ear, "I've been meaning to ask you, Harry…what _did_ happen to Quirrell when he died?" Her eyes seemed wide open in interest. "I want to become a Necromancer, so I want to know as many ways as possible how a wizard or witch can die."

"He grabbed my arm and broke out into blisters," Harry said. "He wouldn't let go, so I stuck my hands on his face. He just disintegrated after that, as far as I know; I blacked out, so I don't remember the ending too well."

"Well, that sucks," Rhianna said. "If I killed someone, I'd want to remember all the details, just to freak people out. But, you know, that's just me…sorry I brought it up."

"Look, it's perfectly fine that you brought it up," Harry said, laughing. "I actually want to have a little private conversation with Loxias about just that..."

"You'd either drive her to a point of complete submissiveness or release her wrath. We saw what she did in Manipulations, didn't we? With the freaky shape-shifting? She's got some serious issues, and I don't want to get on her bad side."

"Well, I'm back, just like I said I would be," said Loxias. She was levitating a rather large chocolate cake right in front of her, as well as a keg of butterbeer to her left. "Feel free to help yourselves in a moment. Just let me set this stuff down and we can begin our little party…"

Loxias wasn't anywhere near as nasty to Harry in Alchemy as she had been in Manipulations, but that didn't change anything. Harry was still pretty angry about the Epsom salt, and was looking already for some way to get even with that woman. Loxias exited _again_ to use the ladies' room, and Harry saw his golden opportunity for prank revenge…the teacher had left an entire bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey on her desk, and she had written her name on it with a black Sharpie™ to make sure nobody messed with it. It was the _perfect_ chance for payback! Harry sneaked over to the desk and poured a lot of castor oil into the alcohol when nobody was looking. He knew Loxias would drink it, and then he would have his retribution.

It turned out that Loxias hadn't tainted the refreshments she'd brought, and the class got to have a small party to celebrate their achievements thus far. "Here's to our new teacher," Josh said, holding up his glass of splipberry nectar. "And here's to a long and happy career!"

"Why, thank you, Goldman," Loxias said, now sounding as if she was about to fall asleep at any given instant. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and her trapezoidal reading glasses had slipped all the way down to the end of her nose. She seemed to be so tired, she didn't even bother to lift up the rims and settle them back in their proper place. "Cheers," she said flatly as she raised her bottle of Firewhiskey. She drank the whole thing down in twelve consecutive gulps. After she swallowed the last drop, her face met the surface of her desk and she fell into a deep sleep.

"Josh, is this a change in you?" Celia asked, elbowing her friend. "When we had Loxias for Manipulations, you called her a freak and said that someone like her shouldn't even be teaching in the first place. _Now_ you act as if she's the greatest thing to happen to Hogwarts since Gramps became Headmaster! What got you to change your tune all of a sudden?"

"It was the free food," Josh said, helping himself to another slice of the cake. "She's being nice to us, so I think it's only fair we be nice to _her_."

"You're nutters," Atticus said, as he put a gob of ice cream on top of his cake. "Sure, this was nice of her, but I'm sure in a couple of weeks, she'll be hounding us like she did in Manipulations. Does anyone know who's going to teach that course?"

"I heard that the faculty put Ebonyste in charge of finding a new teacher..."

"Really, Hermione…do you think _Ebonyste_ has the time? He'll procrastinate every chance he gets, and we have _no idea_ what kind of person he really is. I've heard that he used to be a Death Eater, and Harry told us that he was covering up for Mortius," said Isis. "Besides, he also spends most of his time writing little corny love notes to Nezura. Not only do I find that funny, but I think it's sort of sweet."

"I think it's sort of pathetic," blurted Ron. "I don't think Harry was pulling our legs when he said that Ebonyste might still be helping other Death Eaters. He covered up for Parenein and Mortius, didn't he? What's stopping him from keeping the others at this school a secret?"

Loxias suddenly awoke from her little nap, and her eyes shot wide open. "Aaaaaaaargh…" she grumbled, running about the room in a panicked matter. "Somebody hand me a trash bag!"

"Here you are, Professor Loxias," said Malfoy, coming to the teacher's rescue. Loxias didn't give him as much as a single 'thank you' without swiping the bag from him and vomiting. "Are you okay?" Loxias's response was to regurgitate her entire meal into the bag. "Guess not…"

Loxias's eyes were focused entirely on Harry. "You did something to my drink, didn't you? It couldn't have been anyone else…it _had_ to have been you."

"It _was_ me," Harry said, smiling. "In return for the Epsom salt, I put castor oil in your firewhiskey. You just opened the door for yourself with that practical joke."

"Didn't Sir Isaac Newton state that 'for every action, there is an equal—yet opposite—reaction?' In this case, it really suits, don't you think?" Hermione was giggling. "Professor, please, if you're not finished throwing up, keep your face in the bag. None of us want to see that."

"For your smart mouth, Granger, and for _your_ lack of respect for an authority figure, Potter…I'll have to assign you detention for tomorrow after school." Loxias's face had turned the color of a Granny Smith apple. "Twenty points from Gryffindor."

"When do you want us to report back here tomorrow?" Hermione said dejectedly. This was the first time that Harry knew of where _Hermione_ had gotten a detention.

"I've got a Hawkbane meeting I need to go to after school tomorrow, so I'll leave it up to Professor Ebonyste on how your actions should be dealt with." Loxias threw up _again _andthen the bell to excuse the class rang. People, of course, started getting up. "Hold on, everyone…_I _dismiss class; not the bell. Class is dismissed, and I hope all of you have a very nice day." She gave Harry an exceptionally ugly glance and then vomited once more in the bag.

McGonagall's class wasn't hard at all this time; everyone was simply going over a very detailed study of the principles of Animagery. Furrier was assisting McGonagall, and seemed to be interested entirely with an open can of tuna fish rather than the Sixth Years. However, since the people in the Hawkbane program were taking Furrier's course in Animagery already, Transfigurations didn't prove to be a challenge. McGonagall seemed to really want her class to pay close attention to what she did, and her eyes widened as somebody in the back raised his hand with a question. "Yes, what is it, Zabini?"

"I was just wondering," said Blaise. "Is it possible for someone who isn't a Metamorphmagus to Transfigure into another person?" He seemed to be on the edge of his seat, anxious for the answer. "Well…is it?"

"Actually, it is," McGonagall said, "however, it's very rare. In all my years of teaching here, I've only taught two people that have managed to Transfigure into another person."

"Can we have any names?" Marcus asked, and then looked at Harry, as if he was _daring_ Harry to say something about his father being Mortius in front of the class.

"Actually, Cantarus, your father was one of those two," McGonagall said, smiling. "But, then again, he's a Metamorphmagus…sorry. That leaves only one other person. You show potential in Alchemy…a subject that neither one of your parents excelled in. However, I don't see you working up to the scale that Julius was on in Transfiguration. You're an average student in here, passing with an 'E' on some days…on others, with an 'A.' There's nothing wrong with that, don't get me wrong, but your father was strictly an 'O' student in Transfiguration."

"What about my mum?" asked Marcus; "was she as good as my dad?"

"Not really," said McGonagall. "Stella was more like you in here…average. Her area of skill was in Tarot and Divination, I believe, but enough about your family matters in class, Cantarus; let's see if Professor Furrier has anything he wishes to add to our lesson."

"Wha…?" Furrier said, looking up from his can of tuna. "I…I don't really have that much I want to say, except that…I'm hungry and want to finish my meal."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Alex…"

As soon as Transfigurations was over, Harry met up with Celia, Rhianna, and Atticus. Celia was wearing a short, navy blue dress with a transparent jacket over it. Atticus had on a pair of faded, worn-out jeans, a piece of amazonite dangling on a chain around his neck, and a black T-shirt that sported the _Weird Sisters_ logo on it. Rhianna had changed into a pair of baggy viridian corduroy pants and a tight _Furies_ T-shirt. Each of them had gotten their ticket to ManiFest, so Harry showed him that he had his as well. "I found out how Cassandra got these tickets when Malfoy couldn't," Rhianna said, and then laughed. "St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, where the concert's held annually, is on her mum's property, and it is right across the road from The Lair."

"What's The Lair?" Harry asked Rhianna.

Rhianna shrugged and then let out a faint sigh. "The Lair is simply what Cassandra's family calls their home. It's a three-story Victorian-style house that's never been painted, so the wood's still bare; it looks pretty creepy, especially at night. There are all these trees covered in Spanish moss surrounding it, and they've got this enormous wrought-iron fence to keep trespassers out of their garden. Wilted rosebushes, dead flowers, gnarled trees…it's pretty cool to look at. That land, as well as the cemetery, has belonged to Cassandra's mum's family for generations, and Cassandra's great-grandfather built that house in the early 1900s. I don't know that much about the Snape family, but I do know that the Von Dorians are an infamous clan of vampires—"

"Now, wait just a minute, Rhianna!" Atticus said, pushing his sunglasses back up so he wouldn't be looking at someone without them blocking. "You mean to tell me that Cassandra's mum is _Lydia Von Dorian_?" When Rhianna nodded, Atticus blanched. "Look, I may be part of the Shadow family, and we're famous for being powerful sorcerers that can turn people into stone, but even _I_ am a bit scared of the Von Dorians. Only one vampire turned out to be more vicious than someone from that family, and that's Darius Ahsimal. They never let their prey stay alive."

"Well, off we go to ManiFest!" Celia squealed in delight. "We're heading to The Lair beforehand, so we can meet up with Cassandra's family."

"Okay…I just hope we don't wear out our welcome…" said Harry.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen:

ManiFest

It didn't take anybody that long to reach Hogsmeade, and Rhianna led the group over to The Lair after everyone was there. "It's not a long walk," she said, smiling. "If you've had Hawkbane-level Necromancy lessons with Professor Ahsimal, then you know how to find the cemetery. Not a hard walk at all, now is it?"

"Not really," Celia said. "It's just that…well…isn't it odd that the concert's going to be held at one of the most enchanted cemeteries in the wizarding world?"

"It's the perfect element for this specific concert. For the past thirty-seven years, ManiFest has come to St. Clytemnestra's," answered Atticus. "However, events have been performed at this cemetery for nearly two thousand years. It's quite a historic place to have music festivals."

"Do you know what else it's been used for in the past twenty years?" Celia asked Harry.

"No, I don't," Harry said, "Ahsimal's Necromancy classes?"

"Besides the classes, this place used to be a Death Eater meeting-place, as well as a hot spot for Von Dorian vampires. After all, this is _their_ territory. Most of them moved to Romania and Transylvania, though; I think the members of Cassandra's immediate family are the only Von Dorians left in Britain." Rhianna smiled and said, "I also know that Necromancers all around the world come on a pilgrimage to see this specific cemetery, because there is _so_ much history."

"If the Von Dorian rumors I've heard are true, meeting up with Cassandra's parents—especially her mum—might not be that good of an idea after all," said Atticus.

"Her family's pretty nice to guests," Rhianna said. "It's just that Mr. and Mrs. Von Dorian-Snape get along quite famously," the last part dripped with sarcasm. "They hate each other's guts."

"Well, there's no turning back now," Harry said, walking forward. "Rhianna, since you pointed out where The Lair was, I think I know which house you're talking about…does it have moss-covered gargoyles at the ends of the gate?"

"Yes, it does, actually," Rhianna said. "I think you'll recognize it at once."

It didn't take the group all that long to reach downtown Hogsmeade. They passed St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, and walked across the street to the house Rhianna had led them to. It was three stories high and it had a rather haunted look to it. There was a large iron gate at the front with stone gargoyles, and there were a few stained glass windows. The place didn't look very welcoming, and appeared to be a bit shabby. There was a dim glow coming from one room on the bottom floor. Rhianna pushed a part of the gate doors open and allowed everyone to come in. "This is a secret entrance that Cassandra showed me when we were Third Years," she explained.

Everybody got right up to the front door, and Harry pulled the long cord to ring the old-fashioned door chime. Footsteps could be heard, and then the door slowly creaked open. Atticus looked at the house with an entranced look on his face. "Cassandra and I were more alike than I realized. Her house sort of reminds me of my home in London."

Celia shivered but seemed to forget about the spookiness as soon as she spotted the gargoyles. "How interesting," she said. "They really go with the atmosphere." Being evening already, Celia let out a small yawn. "You know, I don't believe we'll be getting any sleep tonight."

A rather elegant-looking woman with sallow skin, black hair, and light green eyes opened the door. She was dressed in bottle-green lingerie with a transparent cover-up robe, a mandala pendant around her neck, and some rather spectacular diamond earrings in her ears. She was wearing some dark eyeshadow and lipstick, and had a very cultured and sophisticated look to her. Harry and the others turned their attention toward Cassandra's mother. "Hello, Cassandra's mum; nice to meet you again."

"Please," she said in a silky-smooth voice. "Feel free to call me _Lydia_." She then looked at Rhianna and asked, "Are these friends of yours, Rhianna?"

"Yeah, and they're Cassandra's friends, too. Surely you recognize Harry from the Halloween party. These other two are Celia Wells and Atticus Shadow IX; they're both Seventh Years. Celia's a Ravenclaw, and Atticus is a Gryffindor."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lydia," said Atticus politely.

Lydia raised a dark eyebrow and the corner of her mouth. "Oh, really? How nice to meet all of you. Well, why don't you come in and make yourselves at…_home_?"

Harry looked at the front of the house before he stepped in. "Thank you _Lydia_."

Celia managed to force out a smile and said, "Thank you very much. It's nice to meet you…and thanks for inviting us inside."

Lydia shook Celia's hand, and then shook hands with everyone else. For someone who looked like she was made of porcelain, she had quite a firm grip. "It's nice to meet you, too. I'll have Scrappy get you something to eat in a minute. Please, have a seat in the lobby and enjoy yourselves while you are inside The Lair." She smiled again, but it was pretty lukewarm.

Harry arched an eyebrow and gazed around the house. "Hey, Rhianna…where's the lobby? This place is huge."

"It's…er…_this way_, I think," said Rhianna, leading her friends to a vast, candlelit room. A chandelier with pieces of jasper was cascading from the ceiling, and cinnamon-scented candles were held in antique on-the-wall sconces. Mahogany furniture with silk, plush cushioning was everywhere, as was an enormous painting of the family up above the black marble fireplace, where a small fire was burning. A nice coffee table with a white marble top was in the large room's center, and a wizard's chess set was laid out, in the middle of a game, it seemed. "Yeah, this is the lobby. I've visited here long enough to know that."

Harry looked at the macabre grandeur of the entire house…or what he had seen so far of it. "It's quite a pity that Cassandra won't be going with you," Lydia said passively. "I hope none of you would mind doing a bit of babysitting at ManiFest." She looked quite upset as she muttered the words, "I can't go this year." Harry could get a good look at Lydia in this light…her body was absolutely flawless, and she looked quite appealing in what she was wearing. Perhaps Snape hadn't lucked out, but it was obvious that his brother had found himself a pretty, rich wife. At that moment, a really old house elf came in, holding in his gnarled hands a platter filled with candies from Honeydukes. "This is one of my elves," Lydia said, smiling coldly. "Scrappy's the oldest, Mopsy's the most reliable, and Tipsy is self-explanatory. Now, about Teiresias…"

"Who's that?" asked Atticus, easing off the edge of his wheelchair.

"Cassandra's little brother," Rhianna said, laughing. "He's a sharp kid, especially when it comes to the Dark Arts."

"Now, is that so?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow at Rhianna. "He likes the Dark Arts?"

"You act as if that's a shock to you," Lydia said coolly. "Magic in this house—especially with the Dark Arts—is practiced just about as much as breathing. I've encouraged both my daughter and my son to do a little Independent Study…but then a couple of my friends started teaching a few Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Now I'm sure that Teiresias will have the opportunity to learn from the masters, and can work up to his full potential. Don't get me wrong, we're not evil people, but the Dark Arts must be practiced just as much as the Defense, if not more. If all you ever practice is the Defense part, then how will you know what it is _exactly_ that you're going against?" To an extent, what Lydia was saying made sense to Harry. "Now, if I could teach any type of magic over at Hogwarts…I'd teach Phobomancy."

"Lydia!" a grown man's voice thundered, and the sound of footsteps kept getting louder. "When does that concert start?"

"In about an hour, Claudius; I don't see why you'd care, though. It's not like either one of us is going to be able to attend ManiFest this year." Lydia gagged and then walked off, with Scrappy accompanying her. "Teiresias!" she shouted up the staircase.

"Yes, Mum?" a voice replied.

"Could you please come down here if you are decent? We have guests," Claudius said, grabbing Lydia's left wrist. "It's time we go."

"Oh…okay," Lydia said, her lips turning a bit white. "We venture out yet again."

"Where to?" asked Harry.

"None of your damn business, Potter," snapped Claudius.

A small boy with greasy black hair and very pale skin came down the stairs, a fluffy Turkish van cat trailing behind him. He was wearing a pair of oval glasses, a _Furies_ long-sleeve black T-shirt, and a pair of dark, baggy cargo jeans that dragged the floor. He would have made it safely down the stairs had it not been for that dumb cat getting in his way, weaving herself in and out of his skinny legs. He tripped and fell. "Ow…" he muttered, and then fixed his glasses so he could see who had seen him fall. "Hello," he said. "I'm Teiresias Snape…are you all friends of Cassandra's or something?"

"If they weren't friends of Cassandra, why would they be in my company?" Rhianna questioned Teiresias jokingly. "Of course they're friends of your sister. By the way, I'm terribly sorry about what happened to her."

"I'm proud of her, and I hope that a friend of mine would be that loyal!" Teiresias said, beaming. "I hardly ever say anything nice about Cassandra, because she's my sister, but I have to admit that she did do something admirable…saving _your_ life," he said, pointing at Harry.

"I'd rather have Harry around than have the Dark Lord terrorize everything," said Atticus.

"Me too," said Celia, walking up beside Atticus. Rhianna followed suit.

"But…my Mum says that you've got to accept the dark with the light for a proper balance," Teiresias said, sounding confused. "It's part of the Grey Magic theory."

"He sounds like Hermione," Harry whispered to Atticus, "but he looks like Snape."

"That's just a bit scary; I saw more of _Lydia_ than _Claudius_ in Cassandra. The only way I could tell she was related to Snape was by her nose and her eyes," Atticus replied. "They're so dark."

"Well, Teiresias, it's nice to meet you," said Celia, smiling. She whispered to Harry, "He may look like Snape a little, but I think Cassandra's got such an adorable little brother. What do you think?"

Harry glanced at the book Teiresias was carrying in his right arm. "What's that?" he asked.

"Here, take a look for yourself," Teiresias said, handing Harry the book. The title read Return of the Dark Arts by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. "It's my book I use for independent study."

"How nice," Harry said dryly. He was pretty curious to see how Dr. Hemlock wrote her books, so he opened it up. There were some horrendous illustrations to show what each of the items mentioned would do and some extremely detailed notations on every monstrous subject a person could possibly imagine…some of which looked like something that would even make the Dark Lord shudder. "Your mum knows that this stuff is in there?" When Teiresias nodded, Harry was no longer confused about why Cassandra knew so much about the Dark Arts. "When did you first start learning this stuff?"

"Er…since before I could read," Teiresias said, looking quite pleased with himself. "Would you like to see Cassandra's room?"

"_I_ would," Atticus said and apparated up the stairs. "Which room is it?"

"The one with the poster of Phorcys Lancerie on it. He's performing tonight as well, and Cassandra's nutters about him. He's still relatively new to show-business, though," Teiresias said, and then beamed. "I've got a poster of _The Furies_ on my door." He looked at the Sixth Years and said, "Mum would kill me if you went in my room; it's a mess." He walked down the hall and opened up the door to Cassandra's room. "Feel free to take a look around; it's not like my sister's coming back from Azkaban any time soon."

Harry walked in to see that Cassandra's room wasn't at all like he thought it would look. The floor was red linoleum, and the walls (crimson-painted brick) had a couple of murals Cassandra had painted; one of which was of Harry and his friends, and another was of Snape, Skylarke, Aurelius, and Ahsimal…_and_ Cassandra's parents. There was also a painting of Teiresias she had framed and placed on her wall. Her bed was black iron-rimmed, and had red glass beads dangling down from it, and had red pillows and blankets neatly laid out…it was so different from the rest of the house, which had an aura of antiquity. Everything in here was relatively modern in style, including the black spiral bookcase that was filled with books on the Dark Arts. A stereo was plugged into an outlet, and racks upon racks of CDs were on Cassandra's black dresser, desk, and shelves on the walls. Her owl, Daedalus, wasn't in his cage; he was asleep on top of Cassandra's bedpost. As Teiresias had told them, Cassandra seemed to have every single CD Phorcys Lancerie had come out with. Just curious to see what this singer looked like, Harry picked up one of the CD covers…no luck; it was a painting of the night sky, not of the musician. He looked on Cassandra's door, and there was a picture. One glance at this fellow told Harry right now…this was _not_ a Gilderoy Lockhart-type; Phorcys Lancerie was dressed in clothes that looked like he was playing a role in a sword-and-sorcery film, and he—although relatively attractive—had a rather cold look in his portrait. The poster's image moved about a bit, and then froze. In Cassandra's closet were several outfits like the ones she wore at Hogwarts, but there were also a lot of black cocktail-style dresses in the back. Her things she had kept at Hogwarts had come back to her parents, so they were organized and placed in different parts of the room. The black leather book she had been writing in continuously was on her bed, but the magic mirror wasn't. "Didn't Cassandra have a mirror that showed you the Dead?" Harry asked Teiresias.

"Yes, she had something like that," Teiresias said. "After she got arrested, Mum and Dad decided it would be best to hold on to it…so I don't know where they put it."

"We need to head out to the concert!" Rhianna shouted. "I'm sure that we won't wear out our welcome this one time, but I think we should get our seats at ManiFest by now."

"Good idea," Teiresias said, tying the strings on his black boots. "I know exactly where we're supposed to go." He led Harry, Atticus, Rhianna, and Celia to the door, and then finally went out. He locked the door, and opened the gate for his sister's friends. After everyone had exited The Lair, Teiresias locked the gates. Harry was ready for the concert now, but apparently so was Tonks. She was right outside the gates, in her _Weird Sisters_ T-shirt and a pair of Capri pants. "Who are you?" Teiresias asked, arching a dark eyebrow at Tonks.

"I'm with the Ministry of Magic," Tonks said. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on this group to make sure nobody gives you any trouble." Harry knew that the other reason she was here was because she wanted to attend ManiFest and meet the musicians after the show.

"Oh, okay!" Celia said, smiling. "Well, thank you for coming."

It only took about fifteen minutes to get through the line and find their seats. "This is going to be great," Rhianna said, beaming. "I haven't been to a concert I liked for ages."

"Yeah," said Tonks, eating a bag of popcorn, "me too." She then smiled and said, "I asked one of the roadies if Celestina Warbeck was going to be here…apparently, she isn't. Oh well."

At that moment, the lights went out, and three glowing orbs appeared on the stage. With a loud thunderous sound, the Weird Sisters came out on stage and began their show. Tonks was roaring with approval, and so were so many others behind the group, screaming with excitement. Their show didn't last that long—only four songs—and then they packed up and said they wouldn't be around after the show. "Damn," Tonks muttered. "I'm their biggest fan."

"Juno Lethe's next," Teiresias said, beaming. "She's my favorite musician…she's got a true talent with New Age music."

A pretty redheaded witch dressed in a sequined green dress walked up to the front with a violin and smiled at the crowd. "Hello," she said in a very friendly tone. "I'm only going to be able to play a couple of songs for you tonight, but I'll be backstage after the show." She started playing something on the violin that made Harry want to dance. Juno Lethe sang along to her music in a voice that put other people into a hypnotic trance:

_Can you tell where I'd find angels?_

_Where am I supposed to go?_

_Have a conscience, my dear;_

_Do have a soul_

_There's others wishing for love_

_You're not alone_

_We're all drifting closer_

_It's only a matter of time_

_Love finds you and never lets go_

_It's a forever thing_

_So celebrate while you can_

_It is the one thing about us that's eternal_

_Can it be true? Are you my angel?_

_What was I doing before we met?_

_Have a weakness, my dear;_

_Let it be me_

_No other can earn my love_

_You're mine alone_

_We're all drifting apart_

_It's only a matter of days_

_Before I find you and never let go_

_It's a forever thing_

_So surrender while you can_

_It is the one thing about me that's eternal_

_Can it be real? Am I your angel?_

_Who's a Dark Lord to go against us?_

_Surrender, my dear;_

_Do it for me_

_There's no chance for you to find love_

_You'll be alone_

_If you drift away from me_

_It's only a matter of seconds_

_Before your agonies won't let you go_

_It's a forever thing_

_There's no chance you'd win_

_It is the one thing about Fate that's eternal_

_Can it be over? Aren't you my angel?_

_Why did it all end so soon?_

_Have a memory, my dear;_

_Let me be in it_

_No other will take your place_

_Now I'm alone_

_Because you left me that way_

_It's only a matter of years_

_Before my wounds heal entirely_

_It's a forever thing_

_It seems I have lost you_

_It is the one thing about us that's eternal_

_AN these are my own original lyrics for this story!_

Teiresias beamed. "Can you see why I like her?" When Celia and Atticus silently nodded, Juno Lethe sang another song that disturbed Harry just about as much. It was almost as if the lyrics around the middle were supposed to arouse something in him…which is exactly what it did. Juno Lethe seemed to be staring straight at him in the front row, playing that hypnotic repertoire of compositions on her violin, singing along as it continued. It just didn't make Harry feel comfortable…especially when those eyes were staring right back into his.

After Juno left the set, Harry felt a bit relieved. "Let's see…the next singer out here is Phorcys Lancerie..."

"I love that guy!" Tonks said, beaming. "I didn't like Juno Lethe too much, though. Kid, you've got taste that's more bloody mature than mine." She glanced again at Teiresias and asked, "Are you related to Severus Snape?"

"He's my uncle," Teiresias said, not taking his eyes off the stage as Phorcys Lancerie came up, dressed as if he was a Death Eater. Juno Lethe had made Harry feel uncomfortable…seeing Phorcys Lancerie dressed as a follower of Voldemort seemed to imply something threatening. Phorcys didn't say anything before he started to sing; he had his keyboard up there with him, and Juno was playing something on her violin for an accompaniment. Two guys with spiked hair in black hoods came up on the stage with guitars…and the music began to play. His lyrics were a lot more sinister than Juno Lethe's:

_A lonely little girl cries…on her own._

_For a whole year now, she's been all alone._

_You try to find her, but now the girl's gone._

_She has found Death; look up at the sky._

_A mansion is empty; where is the head_

_Of the house…the bitter old man had said_

_He would be at his wife's grave. She is dead._

_Roses remind him of her; let him cry._

_A frail teenager watches from inside_

_Former friends see him there, then run and hide._

_His girlfriend runs off and becomes a bride_

_Will he soon realize her love was a lie?_

_An ailing patient flinches at the pain._

_The spell just wore off. What did he gain?_

_It hurt so bad, it's driven him insane._

_To cure his problem, the Healers still try._

_A man and his wife, alone in a room_

_Want to come in? It's silent as a tomb._

_They argue again; an omen of gloom._

_She left him for good. He asks himself, "why?"_

_Two teenage girls stare at a slender cloud._

_They do a dance; their laughter becomes loud._

_Beauty and brains; their parents are so proud._

_Both girls die in a Raid, adults sadly sigh._

_Two newlyweds, talking to each other_

_Turns out they didn't know one another_

_Like they thought; he gambles like her brother._

_He lost the money…how will they get by?_

_A successful young man gets a phone call_

_Says his girl's dead; his grades begin to fall._

_Broken, he buys some needles at the mall._

_Nothing's left. All he can do is get high._

_A quite handsome boy, dressed up dark and grim_

_Comes through the door, lets his wand fire at him_

_He killed several at school. He tells them_

_There was no other way; they had to die._

_All over the world, people are hurting._

_Wherever you go, somebody's suffering._

_Little children, elderly folk, pauper and king_

_Sooner or later, we will find misery, you and I._

After nearly six more songs, all of which Tonks seemed to be enjoying and singing along-to, Phorcys Lancerie, Juno Lethe, and the two guitar players exited the stage. A few more bands played, and then The Furies showed up. The crowd roared with approval so loudly, one would almost think it was possible to wake the dead. Harry couldn't tell if it was his imagination getting the better of him, but it felt like something was moving right under where he was standing…a coffin, perhaps. Tisiphone Shady, Alecto Silverman, and Megaera Moon rushed out all in black and had transparent shawls over their black cocktail dresses…except for Megaera, who was wearing a maternity top with a broomstick skirt.

"Looking forward to ManiFest for us is like having three little girls waiting for Christmas to come!" Alecto shouted, beaming.

"Oooo, this is what I've been waiting to see," Celia said, clapping her hands. Tonks was dancing about, and so were nearly a thousand other people. "Do you like the Furies, Teiresias?"

"Of course I do," Teiresias said, pointing at his T-shirt. "I'm trying to get a better view, because the only thing I can see is their feet. I hate being short!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that comment. "It's not _that_ funny," Teiresias snapped, still trying to see more of The Furies.

Harry listened to The Furies, trying to pick out an ominous message, like he could with practically every other musician that had shown up for ManiFest so far—except Giselle Acheron, the little girl that had given the Sorting Hat trouble on the first day back, who only played a couple of pretty, lyric-less songs on a glockenspiel—it was odd how this band was different. Their lyrics were darker than even Phorcys Lancerie's, but there was no ominous undertone that made Harry uncomfortable. The Furies made him remorseful, depressed, and vengeful, but they didn't seem to keeping a subliminal message like Juno Lethe and Phorcys Lancerie. They were a good band, the same as they had been at the Halloween Masquerade, and each song they sang made Harry like them all the more. Rhianna had gotten up to dance with Tonks, Atticus was sitting there, enjoying the show that The Furies were putting on, and Teiresias was _still_ trying to see better.

After nearly ten songs, The Furies put up their equipment, and the stadium-like structure everyone had been seated in disappeared, and St. Clytemnestra's looked like a cemetery once more.

"Attention, ManiFest visitors," said a squat woman Harry recognized as Madame Twitchett, "the concert is over for everyone who _doesn't_ have a backstage pass. People with a pass should go over there," she pointed at a stone building in the center of the cemetery.

"Let's go!" Tonks said, flailing her backstage pass up in the air. Rhianna and Celia pushed everyone else out of the way, and headed up to the front. Teiresias walked at a normal speed, and so did Harry, but Atticus was trudging along at the end, because he couldn't move that fast. They passed nearly fifty headstones before making it to the area where the backstage pass gave the group access to speak with the ManiFest musicians.

Harry looked behind to see five people he recognized as Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Marcus, and Rick had passes as well. "Hello, Harry," said Rick. "Draco's dad got hold of some backstage passes, but he couldn't get us front-row seats. It's not that I'm complaining, we were right behind you, but…"

"How the Hell did you get front row seats when my dad couldn't buy them?" Malfoy demanded to know. "Did Atticus Shadow VIII buy them for you or something?"

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Atticus said, rolling his eyes. "My dad thinks concerts are a waste of time, and the only tickets he'd ever buy would be to see something like the London Symphony Orchestra…_not_ Manifest."

"Apathy, I'm pretty sure Dave didn't buy the tickets, otherwise I would have gotten a front-row seat as well, and Potter…" Malfoy turned toward Harry. "This had to be your doing." Harry looked around, and noticed that Tonks was nowhere to be found; she'd probably gone inside to talk to The Furies. "Did _you_ buy the tickets?"

"No," said Teiresias. "Nobody _bought _them; my mum gets free front-row seats and backstage passes every year."

"How's that possible?" Malfoy asked, looking down at the kid. "Damn, you look a lot like Professor Snape…poor you. And who's your mum? Lydia Von Dorian?"

Teiresias nodded. "Yeah; Lydia Von Dorian's my mum. Cassandra gave Celia, Atticus, and Harry tickets to ManiFest…but I think that the Auror swiped _her_ ticket." He shrugged and said, "Oh well; it's not like she'd be able to see it anyway, since she's in Azkaban." He walked up to Malfoy and said, "By the way, I'm Professor Snape's nephew. Everyone besides you seems to think I look more like my mum."

Malfoy didn't look too thrilled to hear anything about Lydia Von Dorian; his face lost its color for a couple of seconds. "So…are you a vampire?"

Teiresias laughed. "My mum's one, but my dad's not. I'm half, which means that all the bad sides to being a vampire, I've got, and all the bad sides of being human, I've got as well. I'm allergic to garlic, have to sleep in a coffin, pass out around crucifixes, need to drink human blood, _and_ I've got human mortality. It really sucks."

"Are you coming in here or not?" Alecto Silverman said flatly, opening up the door. She stomped her foot with impatience. "None of us are staying here all night, you know."

The two groups came in; the building was laid out in a similar manner to The Lair, covered in antique furniture and had an eerie aura to it. Juno Lethe, Tisiphone Shady, Megaera Moon, Phorcys Lancerie, Giselle Acheron, and Alecto Silverman were all in there, sipping on what appeared to be splipberry nectar. Another young musician came in, this one Harry recognized immediately by her short blonde hair and hazel eyes…it was Christine Peterson, the woman he'd met at Leir's funeral. "Wait a minute…Christine?" Harry managed to say.

"Ah! We meet again," Christine said. "Sorry, Harry; I can't stay long. I just came here to get my things. Malachi's waiting on me, and I need to get out of Hogsmeade as soon as possible."

"Hold on, Christy," said Tonks. "I want to know what you've been up to lately." It was clear that Tonks and Christine were friends, the way they started talking. They walked outside.

"I love your music," Teiresias said to Juno Lethe, who seemed surprised to find out she had a fan. "I have all your CD's and single-albums…and I was the first person to join your fan club."

"Is that so?" Lethe said, a pretty smile coming across her lips. "Now _that_ is flattering."

"What's Beauxbatons like?" Teiresias asked Lethe. "My uncle Severus (Lethe flinched) teaches Potions at Hogwarts, so that's the only school I ever hear about at home."

"Beauxbatons is fantastic," Lethe said, beaming, scooting closer to Teiresias. "I was one of the few Irish who attended, but it was absolutely beautiful. Let's just say, if I went to Hogwarts, I would have turned out differently, if you catch my drift."

"I'm a fan of yours, Phorcys!" Celia said, showing off her sparkling smile to the man.

Rhianna pushed Celia out of the way. "She's not as much of a fan as _I_ am," her smile was amplified by her glittering eyes. "I have every single one of your CD's _and_ I collect your posters!"

"So do I," Celia snapped at Rhianna, elbowing her. "_Move_, Rhianna!" she snarled.

"_Never_, Celia," Rhianna hissed back, sticking out her tongue. A fight broke out between the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw, and all the other guests were just watching it with amusement.

"Where's that Cassandra Snape girl?" Phorcys asked suddenly. "She's never missed a Manifest."

Celia and Rhianna still kept arguing about who was the bigger Phorcys Lancerie fan.

"There's a first time for everything," Teiresias said. "She's in Azkaban for murder."

"That's a real shame," said Tisiphone Shady. "I kind of liked her, poor lass; she reminded me of my kid sister, Zephyr."

"I've never missed ManiFest," Teiresias said, beaming proudly.

"Well, that's true, too…" said Megaera Moon, looking at Teiresias's _The Furies_ T-shirt. "You're a good kid with good taste, Teiresias." Teiresias seemed glad to hear that news.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said to Lethe. "I'm also a big fan of yours. Your music touches me in a deeper way than any other musician."

"Does it?" Lethe seemed to be thrilled by that news as well. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"He doesn't really have one," Rick said before Malfoy covered up his mouth with a hand.

Lethe laughed at that comment, but seemed to be surprised. "Oh, now I could have sworn you'd have a girlfriend, Draco."

"I do; Rick's just being a git with a big mole," said Malfoy. "Her name's Pansy Parkinson."

Lethe smiled, and then offered Malfoy a glass of splipberry nectar. "Thanks."

Harry decided it would be a smart move to talk to Giselle Acheron. "Hello, Giselle," he said to the little girl. "Which House did the Sorting Hat place you in?"

"Ravenclaw," Giselle whispered in Harry's ear. "However, Professor Snitchgrass knew I didn't want to go in there, because my big sister's such a ditsy Ravenclaw, so it put me in Gryffindor." She smiled and said, "Did you like the concert?"

"I liked your music the best," Harry halfway lied. He really liked The Furies' music better, but it was Giselle's that had put him into a good mood after all that ominous stuff from Lethe and Lancerie…therefore, he liked her music better at the moment.

"You _did_?" a smile spread all across that adorable little face, cedar curls bouncing all over the place. She hugged Harry. "Mrs. Von Dorian was nice enough to give me an opening, and now it makes me feel great to learn that someone liked my music! Now I want to play more than ever!"

"Great…" Rhianna said sarcastically. She then held up a disk case and said to Lancerie, "Could you autograph this for me, please? This is the only CD of yours that I have that you haven't autographed yet!" She looked at Celia and snarled, "See? I _told_ you that I'm the bigger fan!"

"Shut up already," Lancerie said as he handed the case back to Rhianna. "If you're just going to gawk at me like that, I think I might as well leave." He grabbed a gym bag and walked out, looking as if he was remorseful of something he'd done. Malfoy followed right behind him.

"Well, that was rude," Marcus grumbled, and then looked at Juno Lethe. "That was the first time I heard your music…it had a sense of foreboding to it, and I really like that."

"Thank you," Lethe said in a modest voice.

"Hey, do any of you want to talk to us?" Tisiphone Shady asked. Crabbe, Rick, and Goyle scooted in between the Furies and started rambling on and on about how great they found the music of The Furies to be. "I _knew_ that some of you in here were Furious!" Tisiphone squealed with delight. "It sucks when you're the main attraction of ManiFest, and your fans don't even bother to tell you how much they love you anymore."

"We love you," Rick said, and then pushed his ticket over toward Tisiphone. "Megaera and Alecto have already signed…would you like to have the honor of finishing the masterpiece?"

Harry sighed; the musicians were so different, and the only one that seemed to be at least mildly interested with what _he_ had to say was Giselle Acheron, but she was only a little girl and wanted to hear _anything_ from any fan. He got his ManiFest poster Rhianna had gotten him autographed by The Furies, and then he decided to talk to Lethe for a moment.

"Excuse me, Ms. Lethe?"

"Feel free to call me Juno," she said, offering Harry a seat right next to Teiresias. "I couldn't help but notice you _weren't_ enjoying my music; was your mind elsewhere?"

"No; your lyrics gave off the impression you were trying to tell me something," said Harry.

"What a coincidence," Lethe said, blinking. "I _was_ trying to send you a message." Harry's eyes widened. "With what's been going on, you're going to need your conscience now more than ever. Perhaps you are beginning to experiment a bit with the Dark Arts?" Harry hadn't taken the time earlier to realize that he had actually been dabbling a bit in the Dark Arts in some of his classes. The thought was terrifying, and sent shivers down his spine. "It's terrifying, no? Well, you're not alone; I oppose the Dark Lord, but I _did_ take a course in Curses & Rootwork at LéAvíans University with a certain Professor Mortimer Skylarke. Have you heard of him? He teaches Curses & Rootwork at Hogwarts now."

"Skylarke's one of my teachers this year," Harry said, a bit surprised that Lethe had taken Curses & Rootwork with _Skylarke_.

"Well, that means you're not alone right now, and that you'd be surprised to see how close the people that oppose the Dark Lord are becoming. Enemies are becoming allies at present, just so that our defense against this upcoming terror might have more of a chance. It's not just a time of magical oppression, but we should celebrate! This is the revival of the Slayers Renaissance, Potter, and do you know what that means? If the Renaissance lasts for a couple of years, the next generation might not have to deal with vampires, werewolves, undead, or lamiae! Isn't that marvelous?" Harry opened his mouth to argue with Lethe—on the behalf of Cassandra Snape, Lydia Von Dorian, Darius Ahsimal, and Remus Lupin—but he was cut off. "We should celebrate while we can. If the Dark Lord overpowers us, then we won't ever have a chance to party again."

"I have friends that are werewolves, lamiae, and vampires," Harry said flatly.

Those words seemed to have little to no effect on Lethe, who continued, "You seem like the type that would have a girlfriend as well…you and Malfoy both have a girl in your life, right?"

"Malfoy does," Harry said, thinking about Cho. "I dated a girl I really liked, but things didn't go that well in our relationship."

"You've got a weakness," Lethe said. "Everyone does, you know. You'll find a girl; let her be your weakness. Love is the only weakness that might prove to be a strength for you later on."

"What about Hermione, Harry?" Celia interrupted.

Rhianna tackled Celia. "You stay out of this!"

"Harry's my friend, too, Rhianna," Celia spat. "I'm just trying to help out..."

"So you're pulling his best friend away from him by starting a relationship?" Rhianna said in a very spiteful tone. "That doesn't make sense. If you're his friend, don't make matters worse, and keep your nose where it's supposed to be!"

Celia gave Rhianna a very rude gesture. "Oh, you're going down," she said angrily, pulling out her wand. "Let's finish this outside."

"I wanted your full attention," said Lethe. "Everyone will drift apart very soon, and the Slayers Renaissance might have something to do with it. I'm very gifted with Divination, and I had a premonition a couple of days ago, and I'm glad to see you did what you were supposed to by going to this concert. Did you know that you escaped Death tonight by going to ManiFest? If you had stayed at Hogwarts, you would have died. There's still a chance that Death will find you if you return early. That's why Cassandra made sure that you and Atticus Shadow IX got tickets with backstage passes, because the both of you are in jeopardy, _especially_ you." Harry tried to scoot away from Lethe, but she grabbed his arm. "Heed my words, Potter, you have a few days before the Dark Lord sends one of his followers to do something terrible to one of the people you are the closest to. Perhaps it would be wise to surrender, because there's no other way to stop the devastation. If you drift away, then perhaps your pain will cease and so will the catastrophes. Maybe there was no chance for you to begin with. But, just think, there is nobody else that has a chance against the Dark Lord, so if you choose to continue this battle, go on with it, because I am not a person to stop you. Just remember that the damage cannot _always_ be undone."

Harry just looked at Lethe, and then scooted away from her. She was beautiful, yes, but she was frightening at the same time. It was obvious that she opposed Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but she really didn't seem to be rooting for Harry, either; she was as close to neutral as a person could get, and that really didn't settle too well with Harry. "You know," Lethe said, giving Harry a smile that had a monstrous undertone to it, "you and the Dark Lord have many similarities."

That was the last thing Harry wanted to hear. "I'm leaving back for Hogwarts_ now_."

"NO!" Lethe screamed. "You don't want to do that, you fool!"

"And why wouldn't he?" Atticus demanded. "I want to know."

"_You_ shouldn't leave yet, either!" Lethe wailed. "You'll be racing to your deaths if you go back right now…"

"How would you know?" Atticus said, starting to wheel out the doorway. "Come on, Harry; I think she's just trying to scare us."

Harry had to agree with Atticus. Lethe's testimony was far from credible, and he was ready to leave, since the musicians were really beginning to piss him off. "Giselle, would you like to go back to Hogwarts with us?" he asked the six-year-old. The precious little girl nodded eagerly. "How about I carry you back?" It was as if he had said the magic words, because Giselle rushed toward him. It was strange; that little girl was so sweet and charming, it was next to impossible _not_ to like her. She radiated with so much positivity, that being around her made Harry feel wonderful. He walked out with Giselle on his back, and followed Atticus. Malfoy was still talking to Lancerie, who now looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. Crabbe and Goyle were talking with The Furies, who seemed to be thrilled to hear from fans. Tonks and Christine had left the premises, and apparently, so had Rick and Marcus.

Suddenly, Harry saw sparks of blue and green coming from where the stadium had once been; a duel was taking place, and he had a pretty good feeling he knew who were the opponents.

"Rhianna! Celia!" he shouted, rushing over there to see if he was correct. Rhianna and Celia seemed to have taken the Phorcys Lancerie fandom a bit too far, because they were quite serious about their duel. They both had some rather minor cuts, Rhianna had a black right eye, and Celia's bottom lip was bleeding. The duel progressed, until they saw Harry. They both put their wands up and walked off.

As soon as they left St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, Harry then realized that he had forgotten something (or rather some_one_)…Teiresias Snape hadn't come out with him. Celia and Rhianna walked off and started their journey back to Hogwarts, apologizing to each other for their violent behavior, but Atticus seemed to be more patient. "Harry, I'll wait for you and Teiresias to come out of the cemetery. I'm heading back to Hogwarts with you, just in case those two start up another brawl." Harry rolled his eyes at Atticus, but was inwardly relieved to know he wouldn't be by himself out at this cemetery so late at night. He handed Giselle to Atticus, and started off toward the stone building. Lethe and The Furies had started walking off, and the only musician remaining out there in the graveyard was Lancerie, and that was only because he was _still _talking to Malfoy.

Teiresias was leaning against a headstone, reading Return of the Dark Arts by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, and looked up. "Hello," he said coolly. "Did you forget I was here?"

"Yes, I did," Harry said. "What were you doing?"

"I found a good place to sit down and do a bit more Independent Study," Teiresias said, still sounding quite calm and at peace. "I'm sure that the remains of the guy right below me won't mind too much if I relax over here; some think it is disrespectful, though. I think I'll make it up to this dead fellow tomorrow by tidying up his grave."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, just out of curiosity.

"Quirrell," Teiresias said, putting up his book, "or rather what's left of him."

"Does his wife or son come out here often?" Harry was pretty sure that Teiresias would know if anyone went to St. Clytemnestra's on a basis. After all, _his_ mother owned the cemetery. He offered his hand to the boy to help him get up.

Teiresias stretched and then shrugged his angular shoulders. "How could they visit when they're residents?" he asked, and then pointed to two more headstones. "They're buried right beside him; take a look for yourself."

Harry looked to see Quirrell's headstone_ (born September 2, 1970, died June 28, 1992)_, but there were two others next to it…_Cecil Janus Quirrell_ _(born January 13, 1984, died June 6, 1990)_, and _Constanza Eris Quirrell (died April 22, 1987)_. Now he was completely confused; Loxias was alive, and had mentioned something about Cecil once or twice in Manipulations. The only explanation that rushed through Harry's mind that made even a little bit of sense was that either Ahsimal or some other Necromancer had brought Loxias and Cecil back from the grave.

"Constanza Quirrell's the Alchemy professor, and a member of the Hawkbane Society; that can't be right. Teiresias, did a Necromancer bring her back from the dead?"

"If you want to know the answer to that question, you'd have to ask my mum," said Teiresias. "Every Necromancer that practices in here has to have a permit from Mum beforehand, and must check in each time before they do something…and they have to record which person it is that they're trying to Revive, Summon, or Resurrect." He rolled his eyes. "Necromancers don't have that much freedom with their practices, but I respect them all the more; it's an admirable job."

Harry felt bad about leaving Atticus and Giselle by themselves outside the cemetery, but he really felt that he needed to find an answer to this antagonizing question about Loxias and her son. Besides, Teiresias needed an escort home; after all, he was only nine or ten, and rather scrawny. As he approached the gate, he noticed that his friend and the little girl had fallen asleep. It was nearly two in the morning, on a Friday. "How about I walk you home?"

"If you want to, I won't object," said Teiresias. "You'd be surprised how many weirdoes live in downtown Hogsmeade."

'_Look who's talking_,' thought Harry. He walked across the street, walked onward past the iron gate, and rang the door-chime. He was hoping that Lydia Von Dorian would open the door again, but he was disappointed to see it was Claudius Snape instead. His chestnut hair was neatly combed back and wet, and his icy-blue eyes seemed to pierce into Harry's mind. He was a rather good-looking man, but he _did_ have the enormous Snape nose. "You came to return my son, right?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said curtly.

"Ah, it's good to see he's still in one piece after ManiFest," Claudius said in a frigid voice.

"Would you like to come in, Potter?"

"Sure; I've got something I wanted to ask either you or your wife about. A couple of the graves in the cemetery have names on them that coincide with one of my living professors, so I was wondering if you kept records of everyone buried in there." Harry wondered if Claudius knew anything about St. Clytemnestra's, but it soon became apparent that it was Lydia's alone.

"You'd have to ask the wife," Claudius said icily. "I don't pay much attention to the place." He walked off, and beckoned for Teiresias to go upstairs and get some sleep. "He's much more independent than his sister," he said, not sounding quite as distant anymore. "Lydia!" he shouted.

Lydia came down the stairs, now wearing a hair towel, a pale yellow terrycloth bathrobe, and matching slippers. "What is it?" she said. "I just got out of the shower…"

"Potter wants to know something about two of the people buried in St. Clytemnestra's," Claudius said, sounding a bit amused. "So, Potter…who are the two you're curious about?"

"Constanza and Cecil Quirrell," Harry said. "It says she died in 1987, but that was nine years ago…and she's teaching my Alchemy class."

"Is she a ghost of any kind?" Lydia asked, tilting her head to one side sleepily.

"No; she's flesh and blood," Harry said coldly. "Did a Necromancer bring her back?"

"I'll see what finished her off, and I'll check to see if she was Resurrected, okay?" Lydia walked back into a room with a mahogany wood and viridian paint finish; it reminded Harry of a pool table. After about five minutes, Lydia walked out. "I had to take a look in my office for a moment and see if I could conjure up the files about those two," she said in her velvety voice. "Cecil was tortured to death by a couple of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters in 1990, and Constanza was a victim of _Avada Kedavra_. A lamia named Varinia Loxias was responsible for her death."

She let out a heavy yawn, but covered her mouth with a slender-fingered hand. "As for Necromancers, the only person who would be interested in bringing those two back is not only dead, but was never a Necromancer to begin with."

"That would be Quirrell, right?" Harry wanted to make sure. Lydia nodded, and then handed Harry a piece of parchment with some sort of writing in green ink on it. "What's this?"

"A Necromancer's Permit to dig up those particular bodies if you have the urge to see them for yourself," Lydia said smoothly. "But, since you're not a full adult yet, make sure that you get Darius to sign the bottom right corner of this document."

Having the Necromancer's Permit made Harry feel a bit more at ease. "Thanks, Lydia," he said as he walked out. "Have a nice night."

"I already have," she replied, and smiled. "Thank you for watching out for Teiresias."

After leaving The Lair, Harry walked back to the entrance of St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery and found Giselle asleep in Atticus's lap, and it seemed that Atticus was having a very nice, peaceful dream. Instead of waking them, Harry just grabbed the handles on Atticus's wheelchair and pushed his friend and the little girl back to Hogwarts. Since Giselle and Atticus were _both_ Gryffindors, it made it so much easier for Harry to take them back to their House.

Harry found the two tangerine Mood Drops that Skylarke had given him a while back and decided that tonight was the night he'd use them. He found his Invisibility Cloak and walked down the corridors, but it seemed as if something was going on in the Aerie…he could hear it, and most certainly _sense_ its presence. He walked down Turret Row and noticed that Turrets Three and Eleven were open, and coming out of the end of the vast marble Labyrinth, there was a pale green light. It made Harry shiver.

On his way toward the light, Harry passed the realistic statue of two Death Eaters torturing a little boy he had passed once before when he'd followed Cassandra. When he approached the Turret Seven open doorway, Harry could hear music of some kind very faintly. He shivered a bit, since it had an even more venomous aura to it than the ManiFest musicians. Nonetheless, he kept walking forward, passing the statue, as well as countless others that hadn't been there before. He looked closer at them and noticed that every statue he passed had the name _Pygmalion_ sketched around the bottom. The two-piece set that showed Harry and Voldemort dueling was there as well, looking as if it had always belonged where it was now standing. Another statue—this one of Mad Eye Moody—seemed to be leering at Harry with a look of foreboding. '_They're all so lifelike_,' Harry thought to himself. It was true; each piece he confronted looked as if it would spring to life at any given time.

It didn't take him that long to walk up the staircase, but he felt that now was the time to put on the Invisibility Cloak. He inferred that the green glow was coming from a group of Death Eaters, so he was going to take the proper precautions. Cassandra had given him the ManiFest tickets to get him out of Hogwarts…probably to save his life yet again. It would have been a pity if she had ended up in Azkaban for nothing, but something inside Harry told him to continue forward. He heard footsteps, and then could see Loxias going through the Labyrinth as well. She looked like she was sleepwalking, and she had a half-empty bottle of Faerie Liquor in her clammy hands. Even though she was for the most part unconscious, she seemed to know where she was going. Therefore, Harry followed her up the steps leading to the Aerie. The green glow was coming from there, and he could affirm that by this point. An elderly man wearing sunglasses was sleeping like the dead on the floor, and it was freakishly clear to Harry that this fellow had to be Atticus Shadow VII, the grandfather of his friend, Atticus Shadow IX. Parenein's mirror—and another just like it—was tossed beside him, along with a wooden stake stained with some kind of dark blood.

"Since I almost Slew Darius, we won't be in need of the Snape girl after all," said a chilling voice. "Our vampire's elixir is on that stake, so she's not crucial to our ceremony anymore. Atticus Shadow IX won't be necessary, either, since we were able to get Atticus VII instead. Little Cassie Snape can just rot in that hellhole for all I care."

"We've got everything we're going to need for tonight!" somebody howled with delight. Harry could see that one of the Death Eaters was doing a rather frenzied dance of excitement.

"No, Necro, you dunderhead; we _still_ need that other mirror," Mortius snapped. Harry could see _and_ hear him this time...he really shared a lot of characteristics with a Dementor, and looked even more decomposed than when Harry had last seen him a couple of nights ago.

"Julius," Lucius Malfoy said calmly to Mortius. "You know that Severus is back at Hogwarts, and that your plan there was foiled, right? That's six unforgivable failures to our Dark Lord, and I'm sure that he's not going to like this news…you weren't able to finish your task." He put a gloved hand on Mortius's shoulder and said, "If things go even worse for you, rest assured I'll be there at your funeral to mourn your loss, my dear friend."

"No, Lucius; I've got a new idea," Mortius said, and then shifted into a snobbish-looking young man with slicked back hair and white gloves on his hands. "Adonis is going to make me a professor again..."

"Stanzi," Bellatrix Lestrange interrupted, turning to face the zoned-out Loxias. "You backed down from _that_ position? I thought you said you were going to work at Hogwarts."

"I've got Icarus's old job now," Loxias said in a trancelike voice. "I've always been a better Alchemist, and I've got something I'm quite proud of." She showed off a glittering badge. "I'm currently the newest teacher at Hogwarts and I got into the Hawkbane Society; now, isn't _that_ an accomplishment?"

"Well, the Hawkbanes are as biased as they come, right?" said a tall, hooded figure with a deep, droning voice. "How many of them opposed making you a Hawkbanes?"

"The only one that was against me was Darius," Loxias said, and then vomited on the floor. Two Death Eaters jumped.

"That's absolutely disgusting, Stanzi," Lucius groaned. "If you've got to puke, go do it in a corner where none of us have to watch you. If I see _that_ again, I'm sure that _my_ dinner will be the next to come up in that wastebasket." He snatched the bottle of Faerie Liquor from Loxias and said in a rather icy voice, "If it makes you so sick, how come you drink it?"

"Faerie Liquor's my best medicine," Loxias said, now sounding quite miserable. "It helps me escape reality for a moment, and I can be someone else for a couple of minutes." She lunged at Lucius and snarled, "Give it back to me! It's mine, not yours, and I need it!" After she pried the bottle out of Lucius's fingers, she finished off the bottle. "I'm as loyal as they come…after Icarus passed away, wasn't it _I_ that brought you one of the three mirrors needed for tonight? I could have kept it to myself, and used it to view _my_ husband, whom none of you have bothered to Resurrect for me yet. You _promised_ you'd do me that favor if I cooperated! _I was a veteran, damn it!"_

"Calm down…we _all _know that you're the one that gave us Icarus's mirror," Bellatrix said, laughing. "You're so much better than your husband _ever_ was. Forget about him and move on with your life…forget about that dead brat of yours, too." Loxias looked like she wanted to spit on Bellatrix, but she—much to Harry's disappointment—refrained herself from doing so.

"Er…who all was present on the Skylarke Raid fifteen years ago?" asked a sophisticated-looking man with short mahogany hair and silvery eyes. He started picking at his fingers.

"Licinius, _you_ were there; surely you remember who all went with you on that glorious night that entire family was wiped off the face of the earth," said Bellatrix. "I wanted to watch Míguel Skylarke die, but I couldn't go…perhaps Dave went?"

"Not I," said one of the hooded figures. "I was helping Rudolphus make it look like Aurelius was the culprit, remember?" The man laughed shrilly. "Oh, that was a wonderful time! The only other time I had that much fun was when I destroyed the Apathy family..."

"You left the girl alive," Rudolphus pointed out. "Why didn't you kill Rhianna Apathy when you had the chance?"

"I just didn't, okay? Stop breathing down my neck!" Dave spat poisonously.

"Everyone's here except one person we're _still _waiting on to show up at the last minute… it's _always _the last minute for Adonis," said Mortius. At that moment, the door swung open and Ebonyste came in, gasping for air. "My, my…did you run the whole way up here?"

"What's _he_ got to do with us anymore?" Bellatrix sounded very irate by this point, and the tips of her ears were turning a vermilion color from anger. "Adonis Ebonyste betrayed us, just like Igor Karkaroff and Darius Ahsimal!" She rushed over toward Ebonyste and pulled his left sleeve down so the other Death Eaters could see the rectangular scar where he had cut the Dark Mark out of his arm with a pocketknife. "Look what he did to dishonor himself!"

"Get off my case," Ebonyste said his usual carefree voice. "Hello, everyone…please refrain yourselves from hurting me. I'm Mortius's guest tonight." The Death Eaters all glared at Mortius, who had his face buried in his hands, mortified in front of his friends and allies.

"Is there any particular reason why you came to a Raid in a bathrobe with rubber ducks on it, Don?" asked Licinius.

"No," Ebonyste replied calmly, taking a seat next to Rookwood. "I just got out of the bathtub and didn't feel like putting on my mask. After all, I'm pretty tired and I really need to catch up on my beauty sleep." He held up a vial filled with some kind of thick, black liquid and beamed. "I might not be one of you guys anymore, but Mortius is still the best friend I've ever had. I'll support him through whatever he's going through, so that's why I got one of the final ingredients for him. After all, I believe that _I_ am the only one that could give him the proper dosage of fairy blood."

He pulled out a comb and began working on untangling his wet hair. There was a large gash on Ebonyste's arm, and it was now bandaged up. "I told Dumbledore that Mrs. Norris got me, and I think he bought the story."

"So…you quit, but still support our cause?" Lucius sounded confused. "Whatever, Don; you've always been a bit on the odd side. It's good to see you're still doing minimal work for us..."

"I beg yourpardon?" Ebonyste said, his ears twitching. "I'm in on this plan of Mortius's more than you are, Mr. I-am-better-than-you! If it wasn't for me, this wouldn't work as well!" He pulled out his earrings and began trying to get a few more tangles out. "Hm…maybe I should go for dreadlocks next time…" He handed the vial to Mortius and then said, "I'm going to go back to sleep in Turret Three now, okay? You've got what you need for the ceremony, I think, so best of luck to you and whatever happens."

"Take care, Adonis," said Mortius. "You'll see me in my new form tomorrow, and I'm sure you'll be surprised." He turned to the other Death Eaters and said, "I'm going by the name Jules Pyrites, and I hope _none_ of those nincompoop students catch the pun."

"Ha…fools gold," said Lucius. "I get it, Julius, and I'm sure that my son will as well—"

"When are you going to start bringing Draco to our meetings?" Mortius asked. "I'm planning on talking to Marcus this summer, after our plan is finished, and I'm sure that he'll want to follow the path Stella and I have started for him."

"Damien was glad to become one of us," said Licinius, and turned to a hooded figure. "Am I right, son?" Damien nodded, and gave his father the thumbs-up gesture of approval. "You've nothing to fear, Lucius. Draco will see the light and realize how good a cause we truly are."

'_That's nothing but bull shit_,' thought Harry, '_hold on a minute…**Draco **Malfoyisn't a Death Eater yet?'_ He wondered where he'd heard the name Damien before, besides in Muggle horror movies he'd watched with Dudley (who, of course, always ate every last piece of popcorn but sometimes would leave him a burnt kernel or two), and then remembered that Cassandra had mentioned Damien Fallowin before. Harry took a closer look at the Death Eater known as Licinius, and then realized how much the man looked like Rick…that was Licinius Fallowin, the father of Damien, Rick, and Meredith, as well as the twin brother of Aurelius. He had to stop himself from screaming out loud. Doing so would be a certain death.

"I am sorry to disappoint anyone, but we didn't succeed fifteen years ago in getting rid of Harry Potter, and we also weren't able to get rid of Mortimer Skylarke—"

"What did you say!" Mortius thundered. "You, Severus, Tabitha, Stella, Darius, and a few others went over there, so confidant that none of the descendants of Circe would be able to stand up against us again…and now you're telling me that you lied to the Dark Lord about getting rid of every last Skylarke! You're incorrigible, Licinius."

"Hold on…_you_ were on that mission too," Lucius hissed. "And since you were pretending to be _Severus_ for a couple of years now, surely you would have seen the sole survivor at Hogwarts? Draco wrote me a letter around the beginning of the school year, telling me that he was enjoying the Hawkbane program with Wolfgang. He went on to write that his favorite teacher was new this year and taught Curses & Rootwork…a certain Professor _Skylarke_, I might add. Pureblood Slytherin, yes, but the Skylarkes were a big problem for our Dark Lord since they had such powerful ancestry. Are you trying to pin the blame on others for your faults again, Julius? If anyone is incorrigible, it's _you_." He wiped his nose with a piece of tissue paper and then kicked over the wastebasket. Loxias grumbled a bit and almost scurried out the door, until Lucius grabbed the collar of her robe and dragged her back in. "Were you going somewhere, Stanzi?"

"Toilet," Loxias said curtly as she ran out the door.

"She _better_be heading to that bloody toilet," Bellatrix spat. "If she's running off to squeal to Dumbledore about us, I'll throttle her. I've been looking for an excuse to slap that pretty little face ever since she first showed up five years ago, and if she tattles, I think I'll have my chance."

She looked like she was looking forward to crushing Loxias's face in with her fist.

Harry wanted to use that Death Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. She had deprived him of the closest person he had ever had to a parent, and that was Sirius. He wanted to make her scream, beg for mercy, and make her suffer as she died at his control. However, at present, he was just trying his best to remain undetected. He watched in horror as Licinius Fallowin went over to the old man (who was obviously having a good dream in his deep slumber) and slashed his trembling throat. Blood splattered everywhere for a moment, and then Atticus VII ceased to breathe and move.

"Like with a feeding vampire, the victim's blood for tonight cannot come from an already dead body," said Lucius. "I'm quite relieved to see this old geezer dead…_finally;_ I hated having my summer home right next to his in London. He was the worst neighbor I ever had, especially because I knew that he wanted to turn me into a statue like that damn Auror--"

"Are you talking about Maria Maderas?" asked Necro.

"Yes, I am," Lucius said. "She became a pretty fountain, but, still…I'm enjoying my life too much to lose it to a Shadow." A sick, twisted smile curled up on his snobbish face. "So, instead, Shadow loses his life to _me_."

"You've got issues," Necro said calmly as he collected the dripping blood from the body of Atticus's grandfather. "Oy, Julius, did you get the tears from Dumbledore yet?"

"As a matter of fact, I actually did," said Mortius, holding up in his hand a handkerchief.

"There's no need for Celia Wells in this ritual anymore either. Dumbledore blotted out a few tears at Wolfgang Leir's funeral and used this to dry his eyes. He dropped it, so I picked it up when nobody was looking. Sometimes I am in awe of my own cleverness."

"Jackass," the deep-voiced Death Eater mumbled.

"We're missing two things, everyone," said Licinius. "We have two of the three Macedethe mirrors; one we got from Icarus, and the other we stole from the late Míguel Skylarke…we need Cassandra Snape's. The other thing we need for this ceremony to be complete is Harry Potter himself." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Julius, go find Potter before our next meeting."

"Hey, I'm pretty sure that Claudius will hand over little Cassie's mirror," said Damien Fallowin, laughing evilly.

"Our meeting is adjourned," said Lucius. All the Death Eaters, save Loxias and Mortius, walked out of the room and didn't look back. Harry ran out of there as fast as he could, hoping that his Invisibility Cloak didn't fail him this time.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen:

Double Secret Special Friend Treatment

The next morning, Harry had to wake up his friends. By the time they were seated in the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron wanted to tell Harry about a dream he'd had the night before that involved Celia and the beach, and Hermione wanted to know all about the ManiFest concert. "Did you meet anyone new?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. "How were the artists?"

"The artists were okay, except for Juno Lethe," Harry said. "Her music was pretty, but the lyrics were rather disturbing. I got a chance to talk to Cassandra's parents a little—her mum's very nice—and I met her kid brother, Teiresias." He eyed a lemon poppy-seed muffin that looked tasty.

"Did he strike you as a mischief-maker?" asked Ron curiously, eating a piece of bacon.

"I don't think so," Harry said, seizing the muffin. "The whole time we were there, Teiresias didn't give us any trouble at all except for the time he sat on a grave to read about the Dark Arts. If anything, he's more like a friendlier version of Snape…or, at least that's what he looks like, only cleaner and healthier. He sure did know his artists, though; you should've heard the way he talked to Lethe." After talking, he took a savage bite out of the muffin, like Tellulan would have done.

"If he's anything like Cassandra, I can only guess how he was talking," Ron said flatly. "What happened after ManiFest was over?"

"Celia and Rhianna went back to Hogwarts, I escorted Teiresias home, talked to his parents, and walked back here with Atticus and Giselle," Harry said, taking another bite. "I made sure Giselle and Atticus were up here, but I didn't feel like going to sleep. Besides, those tangerine Mood Drops Skylarke gave me the other day were _still_ on my counter, and Mortius told Ebonyste a while back that a group of Death Eaters would be at Hogwarts last night..."

Hermione looked very worried, and nearly dropped her coffee on her lap in surprise. "Why didn't you wake us up?" she hissed. "It's like you don't want to do anything with us as a group anymore. You go off by yourself, where you could easily get hurt or killed in some cases, and you know that Ron and I want to help you out as best we can…"

"That's right, mate," Ron said, giving Harry a friendly smile. Harry picked up a big, chocolate éclair and began to eat it. "We're with you all the way, and we'll support you through anything. The three of us have been friends since we were _First_ _Years_, and here we are five years later…and you're drifting away from us."

"_I'm_ drifting away from _you_!" Harry thundered, squeezing the cream out of the éclair. "_You're_ the one that wants to spend every waking minute with Celia these days!" He was quite angry with Ron, for rubbing in the fact that he had such a marvelous girlfriend, and for spending more time with Celia than his friends. '_Who does he think he is, telling me that _**_I'm_**_ the one drifting apart_?' Harry thought; '_it isn't me, it's him_.' He put the ruined pastry back on his plate.

The friendly expression on Ron's face was replaced with one that looked quite hurt by Harry's words. His ears were just about as red as the bacon he'd been eating. "I thought you'd be happy for me. After all, friends support each other!"

"You didn't support me when I started dating Viktor," Hermione snapped. "You accused me of siding with the enemy…and he turned out to be on _our_ side!" She held up a letter and said, "By the way, he's coming for a visit at the Yule Ball this December."

"Can I tell you what I saw those creeps doing last night?" Harry said angrily. "They murdered Atticus's grandfather in his sleep, Ebonyste cut himself, and Loxias is a Death Eater as well! There's some other stuff about her and her son that's just as equally disturbing…" Hermione's face turned quite pale, and Ron's left eye began to twitch.

"What are you saying exactly?" Hermione asked shakily. "Loxias is one of _them_!" When Harry nodded, she looked twice as surprised. "This isn't a funny joke, Harry…really…_Loxia_?"

"He just said it was true," Ron said dully. "It doesn't surprise me that much. She hates you, so serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might be more of an incentive than a duty for her. Something tells me that she's the kind that would get the jollies out of seeing you die."

"You're right," Harry said. "Mortius has been collecting items for some sort of ritual, and he's got all the ingredients he'll need, except for two. I know where both of them are, as well." He sighed and said, "You remember that mirror that I borrowed from Cassandra?"

"I remember the mirror you _stole_ from Cassandra," Hermione said in a rather preachy voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Hermione; I get your point, so let it rest. That mirror is one of three mirrors of its kind. One was stolen from a family that Voldemort ordered to be destroyed, the other belonged to Parenein, and the third one is the mirror Cassandra bought at Nezura's Curiosity." Harry then let out a heavy sigh and said, "And, lastly, the last item they'd need to complete whatever-it-is they're doing is…" he bit his lip, "…_me_."

"Well, you helped Ahsimal, Snape, and Skylarke get Mortius out of Hogwarts, right?" Ron said, sounding confident in his friend once again. When Harry didn't answer, he repeated "_right_?" only he had a touch of uncertainty in his voice this time.

"He's still here," Harry whispered to his friends.

"Damn," Ron grumbled. "I wanted him out of here—"

"Mortius is running out of time," Harry said happily, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Lucius Malfoy said it personally, and it seems that Voldemort's growing impatient. Before the next Death Eater meeting, he's supposed to have me for that _thing_ he's going to do. If he doesn't, I'm not sure what's going to happen to him, but I hope it's severe enough to keep him away from _us_."

"I'm going to have to give that a shadow of a doubt," said Ron. "He's not going to give up until he gets caught by Aurors…_if_ that happens. You heard Marcus; his dad is a _Slayer_. Harry, Slayers have a legal license to kill any wizard or witch that gets in their way if need be, and the Ministry of Magic doesn't really pay much attention to them."

"Slayers are the bounty hunters of the wizarding world," Hermione said calmly. "I checked out a book on them called The Slayers Renaissance by that Hemlock woman I keep hearing people talk about." She opened up the heavy textbook and said, "After reading the introduction alone, I can see why she's so popular. Her writing is very detailed, and she doesn't wander off topic, yet she's absolutely poisonous when it comes to negative critics. Ever since that name first caught my attention, I've been keeping track of articles about Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock in the Nightly Oracle, the Daily Prophet, and the Quibbler. Lately, there's been quite a lot written about her, and the last time that her writings were this popular was when your parents attended Hogwarts." She handed Harry the book and said, "Feel free to look at it. From what I know about Mortius, he's the perfect example of a Slayer that abuses his power. I checked it out for you, so just give it back to Madame Pince when you're done."

Harry smiled at Hermione. "Thanks," he said. "Hermione, Ron, I'm sorry about yelling at you, and perhaps I _have _been getting a bit distant..."

"It's not a problem," Ron said. "Just don't get angry at me for wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend."

Harry glanced at his best friends and wondered how he could have ever gotten angry with them in the first place. "There's something else that was a little bit shocking from last night. Two of the Death Eaters that were in the Aerie were Licinius and Damien Fallowin. It seems that both Marcus and Rick have prominent Death Eaters in their family. Marcus refuses to believe me—I wish he'd grow up—and Rick thinks that _Aurelius_ is the family Death Eater. I'm pretty sure he has no idea that it's his dad and brother, and that his uncle's just their scapegoat." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Have either one of you met Aurelius Fallowin yet?"

"No," Ron said quickly. "Isn't he the one that killed the Skylarke family? Oh, look…I'm done with breakfast…"

"Me too," Hermione said, putting down her plate. "According to what you've heard from Lewn, it _was_ Aurelius that killed everyone in that family, except Professor Skylarke."

"Skylarke's not supposed to be alive, according to Malfoy's dad and the other Death Eaters," Harry interrupted. "They want him dead probably about as much as they want _me_ dead. I overheard one of them say that he descended from Circe, whoever that is…Hermione, who's Circe?"

"Circe is one of the most famous witches in Greek Mythology. She was the daughter of Helios—that would be the Sun Titan who was also father of Phäethon, if you read a lot of myths—and the aunt of another witch named Medea. She made a name for herself because she had the ability to turn men into animals, and only some herb called moly would subdue her. One of the cleverest heroes the Greeks honor—Odysseus, the guy that invented the Trojan Horse, and has his own story known as the _Odyssey_—met Circe, and had three children with her." She pointed at a certain page in another Dr. Hemlock book and said, "The Skylarkes descend from Lavinia, who was the daughter of Latinus, who was the illegitimate son of Odysseus and Circe. Our Curses & Rootwork professor can actually trace his heritage back to Myths, and I find that a little scary."

"I think that's brilliant," Ron said. "If the Skylarkes descend from Circe, then that would make them one of the most powerful wizarding families of today. In a sense, it's easy to see why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't want them getting in his way."

"But wasn't Greek Mythology just that…_mythology_?" Harry asked. "It was just a collection of stories the ancient Greeks made up to explain the events around them."

"Most of it, yes, that was the case," Hermione said. "Circe and Odysseus, however, _did_ exist, and so did the Island of Aeaea, where Circe had her domain. The Trojan War _did_ happen, and most of those mythological creatures_ do_ exist. Just because Muggles haven't been able to find proof does not necessarily mean that nobody in the _wizarding world_ found it."

"That's right!" Ron said, jumping out of his seat. "Along with the rest of Lewn's sponsored team, we're discussing taking a visit to the ruins of Troy around the end of the year." A broad smile was on his face. "How wicked would that be, seeing the place where Helen destroyed so many?"

"My parents got my name from the daughter of Helen and Menelaus. Did you know that the name _Cassandra_ has Trojan origin?" Hermione said. "The Cassandra mentioned in the _Iliad_—that is, the epic poem about the Trojan War—was a princess of Troy that had the ability to prophecy. However, nobody ever believed her until it was too late."

"Hm…sounds a bit like _our_ Cassandra," Harry said dejectedly. "Luna wasn't joking when she said that name meant '_prophet of doom_,' I guess. What does _Teiresias_ mean?"

"Teiresias was probably the most well-known prophet in the Greek myths. He was blind, but was the best seer ever recorded…even works like _Antigone_, the _Aeneid_ and the _Odyssey_ mention him. I get the feeling that Claudius and Lydia Snape thought it would be interesting to name both their children after mythological seers." Hermione sighed, "Weirdos."

"Hello," said a relaxed voice coming from behind Harry. He turned around to see it was Luna. With her was Ginny, who had a Care of Magical Creatures essay for Hagrid sticking out of her bag. Neville stumbled behind with a two foot essay for Snitchgrass in his hands. It was apparent that these three had eaten as well. "Are you finished with breakfast yet?"

"Yeah, we're done," said Ron. "Why don't you guys have a seat with us?" He offered Ginny a seat next to him. She accepted, Luna sat next to Hermione, and Neville scooted beside Harry. "Did anything show up in the Quibbler lately, Luna?"

"A Crumple-Horned Snorkack was found in Lebanon the other day," Luna said dreamily, and then continued, "An article about poor Cassandra's arrest is on page eighty-two." She handed it to Harry and said, "Would you like to read? Her little brother, Teiresias Snape, wrote the article, and he's such a cutie. If you read what he's written about how much he believes in his sister—our friend—it'll bring tears to your eyes. It's so sweet."

"It made _me_ cry," Ginny said. "Ron, if you ever got sent to Azkaban for something, I'd probably write something similar to what Teiresias has written about Cassandra. It really let me see another side to that angry girl I saw you, Harry, and Hermione talking to at dinner sometimes." Ginny handed her Quibbler to Ron, and gave Hermione another copy. "Go on, read."

Harry opened up the magazine to page eighty-two like Luna had suggested he do, and looked to see that the article read:

**Cassandra Electra Snape:**

**Separating the Fact from the Fiction**

By:

Teiresias A. Snape

_My name is Teiresias, and I currently have a sixteen-year-old sister thrown into Azkaban for the murder of a famous modern Alchemist. Perhaps you have already read the __Daily Prophet__ and know that the Deceased is Icarus Parenein, and that he had, according to Mr. Licinius Fallowin, 43, (head of the Department of Relics at the Ministry of Magic), "not provoked Cassandra Snape in any way." I am writing this article for the sole purpose of letting everybody in the wizarding world know that _**_yes_**_, my sister killed Mr. Parenein a couple of nights ago, but I feel that she had just causes for doing so, and therefore, an injustice has been done._

_Thanks to the determination of world-renowned vampire Sargon Von Dorian in 1980, those of us that are Undead now have our Undead Rights. It is a real pity that Sargon will never be able to enjoy these Rights, because he was murdered by a Slayer in the very late 1980s. It is a fact that there are non-crucifix zones in certain parts of Knockturn Alley for the protection of vampires. If a person is bitten while a vampire is in Bloodlust, the vampire is not held accountable, due to this magnificent addition to the wizarding law system. Any person that has had their soul entirely and their body at least partially returned from Death are covered by the Undead Rights. For more information on the Rights, please refer to __'Laws of the British Ministry of Magic'__ by Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. It's all in there, trust me._

_Perhaps I still have to convince you further that although she and I both have a mother that is not only a vampire—but a lamia as well—and we have a lot in common with full-blooded vampires (after all, we _**_are_**_ from the Von Dorian clan), we are not evil creatures that prey upon innocent human beings. That is not in our nature, and contrary to popular belief, we _**_do_**_ have souls and we _**_do_**_ have a conscience. I think the only thing that separates Cassandra and me from being full vampires is the fact that we have a human mortality._

_By no means was my sister ever a _**_popular_**_ figure at Hogwarts, but she never went out of her way to make life miserable for anyone. She minded her own business and was never a busybody; unlike a particular Ravenclaw that she wrote me about named Lisa Turpin that loves to make others feel bad. My sister would never do that, and anyone who was her friend could tell you how loyal she truly was. "Lisa's a twit," says Marcus Cantarus, a very reliable Sixth Year Slytherin, and one of the Beaters for the new Hawkbane Quidditch team. "She goes out of her way to attack other people with her spiteful words. I remember one time she caught Cassandra in the girls' bathroom drinking a vial of blood. By the next day, everyone in the school knew all about Cassandra being a vampire." It seems that my dear sister was not Lisa Turpin's only target; she'd attack anyone. "She even made up a stupid little song about my mole," says Richard "Rick" Fallowin, a very honest Fourth Year Slytherin, "I'm just glad Harry Potter broke her nose for doing that."_

_That brings me to the next person I am sure would back me up in saying that Cassandra is not the person responsible for all the deaths going on at Hogwarts…Harry Potter himself. I was not able to get a direct quote from Harry, but I know for a fact that my sister viewed him as a friend. It was this friendship that ended up putting Cassandra in Azkaban, by the way. The reason nobody—save Necromancers—can converse with Mr. Parenein anymore, and the reason Cassandra got rid of him, was because it seems that Mortius (a very famous Death Eater; look him up in the files Mad Eye Moody kept, and I can assure you that you'll find him mentioned at least _**_twice_**_) and Parenein (who was an active Death Eater himself, despite his old age) were going to kill Harry, just as they had killed Wolfgang Leir, the handsome and young Ravenclaw Quidditch Legend. If you don't believe me, view the report that Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Cynthia Lynches, and Andrew McCoy pulled out…or just ask the widow of the late Professor Quirrell; Constanza E. Loxias, another Alchemist that has made quite a name for herself. Perhaps Cassandra was not popular, but she _**_does _**_have friends that would not be around today had she not gotten rid of Mr. Parenein. I am sure Harry would beg to differ, and if he does, he can write and get angry at me as much as his heart desires._

_My sister has always been my guardian angel and will continue to be so until Death separates us for eternity. I thank you for reading my article. God be with all of you._

_-Teiresias_

"That poor kid," Neville said. "It's not his fault that the Ministry's out to railroad his sister, but he really is standing his ground."

"I admire his courage to post something like that," Hermione said. "We need to read more stuff from somebody like this." She pulled out another book and said, "Cassandra let me borrow The Slayers Renaissance before she got arrested, so I still have it. The way Teiresias Snape writes is quite similar to Dr. Hemlock's style. Perhaps not for our own sake, Harry, but for Teiresias as well, we've got to do something about Cassandra."

"She seemed pretty defiant with the Ministry—"

"Well, wouldn't you be acting the same way if _you_ were a vampire?" said a rather curious, amused voice. "I saw her get upset about so much stuff in the Slytherin Common Room ever since we were First Years. We just never spoke to each other because I'm just a bit shy around girls."

"Hello, Blaise," said Harry. "Have you eaten breakfast already?"

"I had a granola bar, so I think the answer to that question would be a _yes_," said Blaise. "I'm just coming over here because I'm sick and tired of listening to Malfoy and his friends talk about you." He stretched out a bit and said calmly, "You know that we've got another Foreign Magic lesson today, right? It'll go along with Herbology, Divination, and Curses & Footwork."

"That's right!" Harry said, sounding relieved. He was delighted to know that he wouldn't have Alchemy or Potions today, and he really was beginning to trust in Skylarke as an ally. There was nothing the professor had done to prove that theory otherwise. Besides, there was certainly a lot of material that Harry could learn from this fellow. After all, Skylarke had at one time said that the only person that knew more than he did at Hogwarts was Dumbledore. In the instances Harry had been in the presence of this gaunt man, he had no reason to beg to differ. It was obvious that Skylarke was a genius in his field, and it was very clear that he had far more power than most of the members of the Hawkbane Society, save Ahsimal and perhaps Furrier. Harry still didn't know that much about Furrier, except that Quirrell had jinxed him years ago and he was stuck as a cat and wanted revenge. Suddenly, a bad thought struck him. "Hermione, we've got to see what detention Ebonyste is going to give us for Loxias." He wasn't at all happy with this news.

"Oh no! That's right!" Hermione said, rushing to pack up all her books. "Herbology starts in about five minutes! Blaise, what are we covering in Foreign Magic today?"

"Thailand," Blaise said. "I think we're covering Thailand for the next two lessons." Harry grumbled something to himself about how much he didn't like Ebonyste—what was to like? Ebonyste was once a Death Eater and _still_ helped one out!—but it seemed only Neville heard him.

"Aw, Professor Ebonyste isn't _that _bad," Neville said. "Foreign Magic's my best subject. I like going in there because I can actually keep up with our American teacher." He smiled and said, "Honestly, I'm pretty sure not too many Americans are as weird as Ebonyste, but I like his class."

Herbology with Sprout was nothing out of the ordinary. The squat little professor just went over some of the problems with oleander and yew berries. Nothing unusual came from the Divination class; it was the regular Death Predictions from Trelawney and the same uncertainty from Firenze that was to be expected. Harry walked with Ron, Celia, Hermione, Neville, Blaise, Seamus, and Dean to the Curses & Rootwork classroom in Turret Fifteen. Skylarke looked quite delighted to have his students. "Welcome back," he said in a friendly voice as he let out a yawn. "Take your seats and pull out your textbook. We'll be covering the Priaxa Curse today, so get a quill ready to take notes."

Malfoy sat between Crabbe and Goyle, but Marcus was close by; so were Pansy Parkinson and a few other Slytherins. Rhianna was sitting with Blaise, reviewing notes. Harry took a seat, and made sure that Hermione and Ron sat close by. Celia moved on to Animagery, the class she was supposed to be taking with Josh and Atticus. After everyone took their seats and got prepared to take notes on this new Curse that Skylarke had emphasized, the bell rang and the professor came dawdling in. His eyelids looked like they were weighing down upon him, he was breathing very slowly and deeply, and several empty pint mugs were stacked upon his desk, along with countless emptied coffee cans. There were also empty bags of tangerine Mood Drops. "I'm glad to see every single one of you is still in my class, with the exception of poor Cassandra." He held up a copy of the Quibbler in his gloved hands. "Have any of you read this? There's an article about the arrest that Luna Lovegood so sweetly pointed out to me on page eighty-two that Teiresias Snape wrote about his opinion of all this." Skylarke smiled and said, "By the way, Teiresias is my godchild, and I'm quite proud of him." He sat down and took a sip from a thermos filled with an energy drink, and then said, "Before we begin, I think we can have an open discussion about whatever you like…as long as it isn't vulgar or offensive to someone."

"What isthe Slayers Renaissance, exactly?" Hermione asked. A lot of the students in the room seemed to want answers just as badly as Hermione, while others giggled because she had no clue as to what it was, and still others just sat there, indecisive.

"The Slayers Renaissance is a term coined for a revival in the arts of Slaying," Skylarke began. "This decade has been a horrible time for werewolves, banshees, lamiae, vampires, and the undead to be living in the wizarding world. Life has always been a bit harsh for their kind, because most people view them as vicious creatures that would tear an innocent man to shreds." The professor yawned again and said, "But, of course, you'd know that there _is_ no such thing as a completely innocent man. Everyone is guilty at one time or another; that's how the world works." He pointed once more at the board, and let out a long, heavy breath. "Copy these notes, and we'll have a demonstration in a moment." Skylarke leaned over to the board and said, "Okay, you noticed the words necessary for the Curse are _Priaxa Nervata_ to begin and _Priaxa Requiescat_ to end. According to your new notes, the Priaxa Curse turns your bone marrow into molten lead. If it lingers for over half an hour, there's a damn good chance it'll kill you." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay…would anyone like to give it a try?"

"I would!" Malfoy said evilly. "Potter, want to try it out?"

"Not really, unless you're the victim, Malfoy," Harry snapped back, whipping out his wand just in case Malfoy decided to try anything stupid.

"Er…_Priaxa Nervata_!" Marcus hissed at Harry. Malfoy howled with laughter.

The sensation was absolutely terrible. For one moment, Harry felt rather warm, but not pained in any way. Then, immediately, it felt like his entire body was melting on the inside, his innards being fried from his bones, and his anatomy being marinated in his own blood. The burning wouldn't quit, and after a while, he felt like he was going to vomit…he _did_ vomit and it grossed out most of the class. "Marcus, I didn't mean test it out on another _student_," Skylarke snarled, quite angry with Marcus. "I'll be taking your wand for the weekend. _Expelliarmus_." Marcus looked appalled as Skylarke snatched his wand and placed it in one of his worn leather pockets. "Harry, I'm terribly sorry…_Priaxa Requiescat_!" After that comment Skylarke made, he said nothing else, because he had finally collapsed and fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Foreign Magic turned out to be quite interesting. Harry copied the notes Ebonyste had put on the blackboard about Thailand, and then went to sleep through the slide show that accompanied the notes. Like usual, there were a couple of wisecracks in there that would come back to haunt people for the rest of the week. Ebonyste had only one moment where he turned vicious on a pupil. Harry was glad it wasn't him, but Malfoy; Ebonyste was usually very nice and friendly, but he could become monstrous instantaneously. He'd proven that on the first day, and every Foreign Magic lesson ever since. After class was over, Ebonyste held Hermione and Harry back. "Hold on a minute," he said in his energetically laid-back voice, "Stanzi said I'm supposed to give you two nitwits detention because she's got to head off to a Hawkbane meeting. I said I'd be more than happy to help a friend out, so that's what I'm doing now…I'm giving you detention the _Adonis K._ _Ebonyste_ way."

"What do you need us to do? Stay in here and clean up for you?" asked Hermione sadly.

"Well, we could always resort to that torture," Ebonyste said, trailing off a bit. "_Or_ you could help me with my Double Secret Special Friend Treatment campaign."

"What the..."

Harry was cut off by Ebonyste. "Ah, I see that you're interested in my Double Secret Special Friend Treatment program. Of course you're dying to know what that actually means, so I'll be more than happy to tell you." Ebonyste let out a friendly chuckle and said, "It's something I do all over the school, and have done so since _before_ I went to Miami on vacation for a couple of years. Double Secret Special Friend Treatment is when I get students to do good deeds or play a prank on a teacher in secret. If you get caught, it's your headache, not mine. However, if you _don't_ get caught, there's the joy in wreaking havoc or being nice, as well as an opportunity to make some extra House points." He smiled again, and all his teeth could be seen. It was obvious that Ebonyste really was up to something this time. "Are you ready to begin your mission, my minions?"

"Sure," Harry said coldly. "Let's get this over with." Hermione seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she nodded in agreement. She hadn't said much since breakfast had ended. Ebonyste giggled as he handed Harry a spray can that had the words:

**Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes**

_Is very proud to present to this Consumer_

Adonis Kevin Ebonyste

_**Spray-on Itching Potion**_

_Maximum Edition_

"Lovely, isn't it?" Ebonyste said. "Fred and George let me have this for free, because they liked my Foreign Magic class when they were First Years. We're finally going to get to use it on a person whom you and I both detest."

"Itching Potion…?" Hermione was a bit confused. "I thought this was Special '**Friend**' treatment, remember?"

"Come _on_, Granger! You've got to live on the dangerous side a little…you and Potter _both_." Ebonyste handed Harry an antique key and then whispered loudly, "It's like _this_; that's a key to Professor Ahsimal's bedroom. I want you to spray his knickers drawer with this stuff."

"I do hope you're joking with us, Professor Ebonyste!" Hermione squealed, appalled.

"Sounds like fun, though," Harry admitted. He didn't like Ebonyste that much, but he did like the idea of getting away with playing practical jokes on Ahsimal. "Hermione, are you in?"

"No," she said. "I'd rather mop the floors or something else." She turned to Ebonyste and said, "I don't care if you view it as torture, but I think I'd be better off with a _normal_ detention."

"You're too noble," Ebonyste said icily as he handed Hermione a washrag. "But, since you _insist_, Granger, I'll let you in on a little secret." He held up a hammer and chisel. "I am an avid sculptor, and I keep a lot of my work in this closet over here. You see, my dear, they're all overdue for a little dusting. Get two of them done, and I'll say your detention's over. With my statues and my magic, let's just say I'm never lonely anymore. Now, Potter, I'll say you're finished as soon as you prove to me that you sprayed Ahsimal's undergarment drawer with that Itching Potion."

"It's a deal!" Harry shouted as he marched out, the can in one hand, the key to Ahsimal's room in the other. This was going to be the best detention he had ever gotten into. He checked Turret Thirteen to see if Ahsimal was in there, which he wasn't. It was the ultimate opportunity to play a great prank, and Harry would get points for Gryffindor if he succeeded in not being spotted. Nervously, he twisted the key through the locked door, and it opened. Looking about, Harry went through the different Necromancy classrooms Ahsimal had, trying to find which room in the tower Ahsimal used for a bedroom. He passed a room that was decorated like part of an Egyptian pharaoh's tomb, another that had old-fashioned telephones all over the place, the one he was used to seeing in Necromancy (the skeleton chandelier was in plain sight), an ossuary, and finally he came to the highest room in Turret Thirteen…the door was closed. '_This has to be Ahsimal's office_,' Harry thought as he stuck the key into the lock. Once more, he twisted the doorknob, and the door opened.

This room didn't have a depressing feeling to it, like the other parts of the tower. The floor was covered in a plush, pine-green carpet, and there was a maple canopy bed with a matching quilt and Slytherin insignia pillows. Photographs of Skylarke, Lydia, Aurelius, Snape, some other guy Harry had never seen before, and Sargon Von Dorian were up on the walls, frozen like Muggle pictures. When Harry looked closer, he could see that these weren't pictures at all, but were rather strikingly good portraits somebody had done in various years. An open box of heart-shaped cinnamon candies was on a maple wood dresser with a large vanity mirror. A diary was lying there as well. In the far right corner, it seemed as if Ahsimal had made a shrine to his fallen beloved Sargon, since most of his lover's stuff was artistically placed into a pile. Ahsimal's closet had all sorts of glitzy and flashy clothing in it, and the more modest stuff consisted of black robes with lace on the sleeve ends. In the far left corner, Ahsimal had placed his desk. On it were a ton of books, sketches, and other interesting trinkets. Harry had no idea what to think of all this; he never would have guessed a Necromancer's personal room looked anything like _that_. Harry was soon reminded that this was Ahsimal's room when he saw the coffin. It was maple wood, and had a dark-green silk plush lining. _'Darius Cyrus Ahsimal'_ was engraved on a gold-leaf plaque on the side.

An enormous green glass window led out to a beautiful balcony with spider plants and ivy dangling from it. A Nimbus 2000 broomstick was tucked away in the corner of the balcony, and a couple of wrought-iron chairs were sitting out there with a matching table. A blood-flavored lollipop was lying out there, along with a half-empty glass of peppermint tea. The view was spectacular, and Harry could see most of Hogwarts from up here. A cool breeze rushed through his black hair and seemed to caress him gently. Harry could have stayed on Ahsimal's balcony for hours willingly, but then he remembered the real reason why he was here again; Ebonyste wanted him to play that prank with the Itching Potion. He pulled out the can and walked back into his Necromancy teacher's bedroom, praying he'd be spared from having a face-to-face conversation.

Harry approached the dresser and kneeled down. He opened the upper drawer, and realized that the only things Ahsimal kept in there more of Sargon's belongings, including an entire collection of diaries. The drawer below it held a _lot_ of diaries that Ahsimal himself had kept. The next two drawers were filled with T-shirts, almost all of them black, and the one after that held cargo pants for the most part. Harry checked a few more drawers before he found Ahsimal's undergarments. He pulled a pair of fiery red ones out and held the can up to it. For some odd reason, he couldn't bring himself to spray them. He felt terrible for thinking he could have almost done something like that to a person that wasn't out to cause him any harm.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Harry found himself confronted by Ahsimal. "Potter, how did you get in here?" he asked, his voice with a hint of hurt and sadness in it. It seemed as if Ahsimal had been emotionally hurt by somebody at the Hawkbane meeting, by the way he was talking.

"Another professor gave me the key," Harry explained. "If you promise not to get mad, I'll tell you why I was up here."

"I'm not in the mood for small talk," Ahsimal said flatly. "I don't have a problem with you coming up here, but I want to know what your intentions were. Is that so wrong for me to ask you a question like that, especially because this has been my bedroom at Hogwarts—which until a few years ago, I shared with Sargon—ever since this school was founded?" His mauve eyes had a watery texture to them, and his pure white face had traces of pink in the cheeks. When Harry showed him the Itching Potion and the red underwear, Ahsimal actually cracked a smile. "Oh, I get it; Adonis put you up to helping with Double Secret Special Friend Treatment, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Harry said. "I had the option of either doing that or having traditional detention for what I did to Loxias." Ahsimal was now laughing mildly. "What's so funny?"

"_You_ are, Potter," Ahsimal said, covering up his feminine smile. "Loxias was talking about the castor oil you put in her drink at the Hawkbane meeting I just got back from." He sat down on his bed (didn't even leave a wrinkle in his quilt), and offered Harry a seat in the recliner that he had rather close to the balcony door. "That was ingenious."

"Thank you," Harry said, unsure what else he was supposed to say to a vampire like Ahsimal…a '_person_' like Ahsimal, for that matter. "I couldn't bring myself to spray your knickers with that Itching Potion," Harry admitted.

Ahsimal snickered a bit and said, "That's perfectly all right, Potter—"

"You could call me 'Harry' if you like," Harry said flatly.

"Okay, if I'm calling you 'Harry,' then I insist that you call me on a first name basis as well," Ahsimal said calmly, and then sighed. "I always wanted my _Hawkbane_ students to refer to me as _Darius_ rather than _Professor Ahsimal_ anyway. It makes me sound like I'm more of a friend than a teacher, don't you agree?" Darius broke off from that sentence and then quickly added, "I'm not so naïve as to think you would view me as a friend—after all, you know that I used to be the Dark Lord's second-in-command—but I hope that in time you would realize that you and I are now on the same side."

"Well, I do view you as at least an ally," Harry admitted. "I'd hate to be on a side against somebody that's as highly skilled in Necromancy as you."

"The only other person living in this world today that's as good as I am in that particular field is your Curses & Rootwork teacher," said Darius. "Would you like a cinnamon candy?"

"No, thank you," Harry said, putting the can in his pocket.

"Hold on a moment," Darius said, applying a thin layer of Chap Stick to his lips. "I've got an idea that'll not only get you points for Gryffindor, but it'll fool Adonis into thinking you actually _did_ do what he sent you to do to me. It'll be so ingenious that you'll have your friend Hermione Granger stumped…for at least a _little_ while."

"That's kind of hard to do, you know," Harry warned.

"Oh, I know that!" Darius said, laughing quite cheerily at this point. "I grade her Necromancy work, remember? Well, the first part of our plan is for you to spray some of this Itching Potion into the air..."

"Then it would hit someone else!" Harry argued.

"Well, perhaps that would be a bad idea…how about we just flush it down a toilet?" Darius continued to twirl that same piece of pale hair, making it become a very long ringlet.

"Beastie," replied Harry; "Never forget Beastie."

"Very well," Darius said, sighing. "That means I've got to use my least favorite option." He pulled out his wand and muttered the incantation, _"Depletio."_ At that moment, the spray can's contents magically cut in half.

Harry and Darius walked through Turret Thirteen, and then headed off toward the Great Hall. The other students had already eaten dinner, and it was only Ebonyste and a few other teachers staying behind to finish their meals that were left in there. "Professor Ebonyste," Harry said, a smile on his face. "I did what you sent me out to do. I have tainted Ahsimal's undergarments and he'll be scratching over there for the rest of the week, I believe." He handed the can back to Ebonyste and said, "I hope that's all you wanted me to do."

"Double Secret Special Friend Treatment wasn't supposed to be punishment," Ebonyste said casually. "I just use it as a detention alternative when I can't find anybody _willing_ to volunteer for the wonderful task of helping someone out in secret _or_ causing chaos for unsuspecting victims." He sniggered a bit and then showed Cyanis the can. "Can you believe I got this wonderful stuff for _free_!" Cyanis seemed to be impressed, and so did Snitchgrass.

"If you spray my litter box, Don, I'll kill you personally," Furrier hissed in a rather ominous tone that indicated he meant what he said and wasn't in a very good mood at the moment. The hair on his long, fluffy tail was sticking straight up, and it was swishing back and forth. Even Harry, who had never owned a cat, knew what that sign meant; Furrier wasn't in the mood for jokes or teasing. He closed his eyes, hoping Ebonyste wouldn't get Furrier any angrier than he already was.

The enormous oak doors opened, and in came Darius, scratching at his hindquarters casually with his sharp, long, painted fingernails. "Okay, you jerks," he spat angrily as he pointed a finger at each and every one of the professors still sitting at the table. "Which one of you sprayed my knickers with garlic powder!"

"So _that's_ what garlic does to you!" Cyanis shouted, and then howled with laughter. Lewn joined in, then Snitchgrass, Ebonyste, and Loxias accompanied to change the solo into a quintet. Harry knew that Darius was faking (this was all part of their plan), but it was apparent that only Snape was a Legilimens at the table. Even Skylarke seemed to be fooled by the act.

"Detention's over, Potter," Ebonyste said smoothly before chuckling some more. "You can go back to doing whatever it was that you wanted to do before I stopped you." He turned to Loxias and said, "See, I'm a good friend. Take a little look at what I got you." He handed Loxias a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey and said, "My fruitcake brother Polaris sent it to me from Miami, but I really don't like to drink too often. Alcohol has that icky aftertaste, and it makes me feel funny. Therefore, I think I'll just give it to someone who might actually need it." Loxias looked at Ebonyste, then Harry (to probably make sure he hadn't poured castor oil into it somehow), and then took a big, heavy gulp from the bottle. She finished it in two minutes.

"Are you feeling any better since classtime earlier today?" Harry asked Skylarke, who still looked as if he wasn't doing all that great health-wise and sleep-wise. Skylarke shook his head, and nodded off back to sleep. After listening to some of the commotion going on between the teachers, Harry decided it would be best to retire for the night, or go find Ron and Hermione, perhaps even Blaise. He was a bit concerned about Skylarke, though. He had never seen his Curses & Rootwork teacher sleep on the job before; it was very well-known around Hogwarts that Skylarke was very energetic and enthusiastic with his job, but now he was acting a tad out-of-character. As Harry left the room, two things caught his attention; Loxias had a perverted smile on her lips while she was looking at her reflection in a handheld mirror, and Cyanis was wearing a very large crucifix around his neck, which he was clutching tightly.

Harry walked out of the Great Hall, and started heading back to the Gryffindor Tower, when he suddenly got the feeling somebody was keeping a pair of watchful eyes over his every move. "Hello?" he said, curious as to whom this stalker was. "Is someone there?"

"Yes; I'm over here," a voice said in a calm manner. At that moment, Aurelius appeared out of the shadows. It would have been impossible to spot him; he had blended right in. "Hello, Harry." Aurelius started combing his hair (which was _still_ quite knotted) and then said, "Have you mentioned me to any of your friends?"

"Actually, I mentioned you to Ron and Hermione, but I also made sure I told them you're innocent." Harry didn't know what Aurelius was up to, but he certainly had proven so far that he wasn't out serving Voldemort. Harry looked closer at Aurelius's forearms, and couldn't find any trace of a Dark Mark. However, that weird seven-point star symbol was there for a moment before it disappeared. Also, that creepy ring that Harry had seen on Snape and Darius was on Aurelius's left middle finger. "What does that ring mean?"

"It's the symbol of something I stand for," Aurelius answered. The seven-point star appeared again, and he pointed his right index finger at it. "This is _another _symbol, by the way, but it's only optional to have. If you've ever seen this star before, it means the same thing the ring does."

"But what do they _mean_?" Harry asked again, insistent upon getting an answer. He wanted Aurelius to tell him. "You could tell me, or I tell Dumbledore that I know you're over here..."

"You'd tell Dumbledore, eh?" Aurelius said in a slightly amused tone. "I was a good friend of Sirius, Harry, so I'm sure you'd give in before you did something that rash. Besides, Dumbledore already knows that I'm hiding out here. He thinks it's a marvelous idea to trust in my friends this much. If they wanted to, Darius, Severus, or Morty could turn me in for a reward, but I believe that they wouldn't do that—reason being that it was Darius and Morty that got me out, and Severus _knows_ I'm innocent—and I believe you really wouldn't do something like that."

"Just tell me what those symbols mean, Aurelius," Harry said calmly. "Does it have anything to do with Death Eaters?"

"No," Aurelius said, letting out a sigh of relief. "They're not a sign for the Order of the Phoenix, either. Morty's the leader of another group, in which my friends and I are all part of. Do you remember when Darius kept trying to mention something on the night of my escape?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Skylarke told him to shut up. _That _waswhat he was talking about?"

"Yes, it was," Aurelius answered. "The word that Darius was about to say was _Nemesarium_, and that is the name of this secretive group of witches and wizards who work in the shadows. We are the fewest in number—the most we ever had was _ten_—and it seems that our numbers continue to fade. You'd have to ask Morty more about it, because he's the founder. Besides, I've missed thirteen years of meetings since I was in Azkaban. I doubt you'd get much out of Severus because you're the son of James Potter, and Darius might even talk…but I'd talk to Morty if I were you."

"But he got angry with Darius for bringing up the word. Wouldn't he be angry if I brought up Nemesarium?" Something else was bothering Harry. "How many Nemesarists are there now?"

"Let's see…only nine are left. Natalie, one of our first Six, is at St. Mungo's at present for the same reason as the Longbottoms." Aurelius sounded quite unhappy with those words. "It was my fault; it's a rather complicated story, but in the end it was my errors that came from her untimely end." Aurelius then pulled a photograph out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. "This was a photograph taken in my Fifth year at Hogwarts, right before the Christmas Holiday."

Harry observed it closely.In the picture, there were seven students, and two professors.Skylarke was in a snowball fight with Aldebaran, and it was hard to determine which one of them was winning, since they were both covered in snow. Snape had his wand out and seemed to be striking a pose with Darius, who was obviously a teacher. Aurelius had his tongue stuck to a metal pole. A Sixth Year Ravenclaw boy and a Fourth Year Hufflepuff girl that were unfamiliar to Harry were trying to release him by yanking on his body. For the first time, Harry noticed that Aurelius was a graduate of Gryffindor; he could see the maroon and gold tie on his student self in the photo. Two other girls were in the picture. Harry recognized the Slytherin girl immediately as Lydia Von Dorian. The other one had fiery red hair and was obviously a Ravenclaw. Lydia was kissing a black cat with white feet, and the Ravenclaw was sadistically watching two of her friends try to get Aurelius's tongue loose. It was a very funny picture, and it made Harry laugh a bit. "They were obviously able to get your tongue unstuck."

"They nearly tore the skin off of it, though," Aurelius said, chuckling a bit. "Were there any faces in there that you didn't recognize?"

"There were three, actually," Harry admitted. He pointed to the Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaws that hadn't stricken him as familiar. "Who are they?"

"The two that were trying to get my tongue off the pole were Lycaon Fenrir and Natalie Biddle. The girl that was watching them but not helping was Ariel Rookwood. She's dead now, but she married Lycaon and had three daughters with him." Aurelius sighed. "The eldest daughter, Naomi, is your age, I think. The middle child, Cora, was still a baby when I got arrested. Lycaon visited me in Azkaban before, and sometimes he'd bring all three of his girls with him. I like the youngest daughter, Marpessa, the best, because she's so much like her parents. Naomi's a self-centered airhead, Cora tends to be very cold and distant, but Marpessa's a rambunctious little fireball. She has a tough aura, a sharp sense of wit, and a father that thinks the world of her." Aurelius shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's ironic that the one I like the least—Cora—is supposed to be my godchild. She hates me, and I hate her. The feeling is mutual between us."

Harry handed the picture back to Aurelius. "Was Sirius ever part of Nemesarium?"

"No, he wasn't," Aurelius answered. "Aldebaran was, though. Sirius didn't even care to join in with us for a couple of reasons. The first was because Severus was in it, and the second was because Nemesarium sometimes would practice the Dark Arts."

Harry began to back up, a bit freaked out by the second reason Aurelius had given. "You mean to tell me that you're not in league with Voldemort _yet_ you practice Black Magic!"

"It's more complicated than that," Aurelius said calmly. "We're not your enemy, but we _do_ practice the Dark Arts. It's part of the beliefs we in the group tend to follow." Aurelius bit his lip and said, "I'd hate it if you got the wrong connotation with Nemesarium."

"Perhaps I'd think better of it if I could attend a meeting," Harry said, arching an eyebrow at Aurelius. "I really don't know _what_ to think of all this right about now."

"Okay, I can understand that," Aurelius said. "I was consulted for the Order of the Phoenix before, but I felt that I had to attend a meeting before I decided whether or not I'd like to join…I chose not to. In a few ways, Harry, I think I can relate to you, but I'm not naïve enough to think we're identical. But for now, you'll have to excuse me—"

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, noticing Aurelius was preparing to sprint off.

"I have to flee," Aurelius said before rushing off into the shadows again.

Suddenly, the footsteps Aurelius had probably heard reached Harry's ears. "Er…hello?" he said, unsure of who it was this time. He turned around to see a handsome young man in teacher's robes. On his hands were white gloves, and his short hair was slicked back. "Who are you?"

"Jules Pyrites," the man said, smiling. "Nice to meet you." He offered his hand out to Harry to shake it. "You've got to be Harry Potter."

"Well, nice to meet you too," Harry said, and then smirked as he shook hands with this fellow. "You've got to be Mortis."

"Nobody's going to believe you," Pyrites said in the same friendly voice, only it now had a teasing, mocking tone to it. "Not too many people believed you when you said that I was parading around as Severus, did they?"

Harry was getting quite angry with this particular Death Eater. "I was at your little rally the other night. It's odd that none of you realized that one of the final ingredients for whatever-it-is you and Ebonyste are doing together was right there along with the rest of you. Damn, you guys are getting lazy, stupid, or perhaps _both_." Pyrites' nostrils flared, and his left eye began to twitch a bit. His handsome face began to get some of the grotesque features of Mortius on it, and then shifted back to normal. "I know a lot about Ebonyste, Loxias, and you…_especially_ you. I heard Lucius Malfoy say that you've failed Voldemort—"

"Idiot! Don't use his name so frivolously!" Pyrites snapped, looking as if he wanted to slap Harry's face with one of those gloved hands.

"Well, you failed your master quite a number of times, and I think he might be growing impatient with you. If his impatience leads to anything like what happened to Quirrell, or worse, rest assured I'm going to laugh at you." Pyrites looked quite outraged by Harry's comments, and his mouth was gaping open and closed, like a fish that had been pulled out of the water. "You killed a defenseless old man in his sleep—"

"I didn't do that," Pyrites pointed out. "Licinius did. I'm just going to use the blood for my ritual. By the time I'm done, you'd never be able to defeat me. I'm the greatest Slayer that ever lived, and it'd be damn next to impossible for someone to outdo my greatness! You have no idea, Potter, what my true intentions are, and I'm not going to tell you unless I'm forced to confess." He laughed a bit and said, "I'll see you in Manipulations. Just remember, Potter...this isn't over yet."

A few more minutes passed by, and Harry was dawdling down the corridors, trying to find something to do. Hermione rushed up to him with a large smile on her face. "Guess what I did?" Hermione said, giggling.

Harry was quite curious as to what his friend had done. "I don't know, Hermione; tell me."

"Follow me and I'll show you," Hermione said, still laughing. Harry obliged to this and was wondering what had gotten Hermione into such a cheery mood when she'd been very glum all day. After walking down a couple more halls and staircases, Harry soon realized Hermione was leading him to the Dungeon. "It has something to do with Snape. You see, I took one look at those filthy statues Ebonyste had in that closet, and decided I'd rather help out with Double Secret Special Friend Treatment than clean that mess. Ebonyste just told me to pull out my wand and do something to Snape, so I did." Hermione creaked the door open a little so Harry could take a peek inside and see what her detention time had consisted of. "Just a warning, Harry; you're going to laugh, so you might want to cover your mouth."

Harry looked through the crack Hermione had made for him to view the sight. He glanced around the room, trying to find Snape. His search was a short one, and he had to put his hand over his mouth to stifle his howls of laughter. Snape was there, sulking in his recliner, but it looked as if he had gotten his hair done by Tonks; it was a very bright green and was moving around like snakes. When Harry got a better look, he could see that they _were_ snakes. The expression on Snape's face was awful; he was obviously angry and in a state of self-pity. Harry slowly closed the door, hoping that Snape hadn't noticed he was there, and then turned to Hermione. "Have I ever told you that you're a genius?" Hermione smiled again and the two friends walked off. "Where's Ron at? Have you seen him anywhere?"

"No, I haven't," Hermione said. "The last that I saw of Ron, he was leaving Foreign Magic class a couple of hours ago. However, I'm sensing he's with Celia. No surprise in that, eh?"

"Yeah, you're right," Harry admitted. "Would you like to see if we can find Blaise?"

"I hardly even know Blaise," Hermione responded. "I think we should head back up to Gryffindor Tower and see if Atticus is okay. After all, he just found out about his grandfather's death at dinner. Malfoy told him, the slimy git. Maybe Atticus needs a friend or two to be there."

"I'm quite sure you're not that far from the truth," Harry said, walking back to Gryffindor Tower with Hermione. They walked up some of the changing staircases, and then found the place on the Third Floor where Fluffy had once guarded the Philosopher's Stone. "I have quite a collection of memories of going in there with you guys," Harry said. "Just for old time's sake, would you like to go back in there to see if Fluffy's still around?" Hermione kept on walking, but Harry felt himself drawn toward the place where he had first faced certain death at Hogwarts. He creaked the door open and noticed something peculiar; Fluffy wasn't in there anymore. The room was completely remade as a Special Interest library, but the trap door was still there. Curious to see if any of the other tests had been destroyed as well, Harry continued onward. The Devil's Snare that Sprout had planted there was all dead and dried up. The flying keys were still there, but the proper key had its wings broken, so it was already on the floor. McGonagall's chess set was still in the same checkmate it had been in five years ago, untouched. Quirrell's troll was missing and there was no trace that there ever had been one. Snape's task was gone as well; it was just a long passageway leading to where Harry had destroyed a servant of Voldemort. As he approached, he noticed that a person was sitting where the Mirror of Erised had once been.

A moment later, Harry realized that the person mumbling the chants at the center was Loxias. In front of her was a white incense burner that was exhaling some sort of glowing red smoke, like the stuff Harry had seen rush out of the glass spheres in the Manipulations classroom. Loxias was in a trance, or so it seemed. "Professor?" Harry said, hoping she'd respond. When she didn't even seem to acknowledge Harry's presence, Harry decided to provoke her a little. "Stanzi?" Still, nothing; Loxias kept on with her chanting, mesmerized by the smoke. She didn't look drugged; she looked once more like she had drunk one too many firewhiskeys. Her skin was cold and clammy, like a corpse, and she smelled very strongly of aloe and eucalyptus. In a couple of seconds, her entire disposition changed; instead of the youthful face Harry was used to seeing, that wicked personality he had seen last at Halloween appeared once more. Loxias's skin had gotten the texture of a dead body, and her hair had become black. Her big, watery eyes turned scarlet. Harry blinked and the transformation seemed to have never existed; Loxias looked normal. "What the—"

A hissing noise cut Harry off. Loxias opened her mouth very wide, and the macabre entity lunged out of her body, creating a body of its own. "Fool! You came in here alone with _us_!" The man was laughing at him, and Loxias was still chanting. "I finally got enough strength to leave that body, and I'm delighted. My friends will be glad to see me again!"

"You're not Loxias?" Harry asked, very confused and quite freaked out.

"I am Proteus Moon, _not_ your Alchemy teacher," said Proteus. "I am a Death Eater, but so were most of the other souls that were living with me over the past seven years—"

"_Seven_! Don't you mean _five_?" Harry was very confused. "Didn't the possessions start happening _after_ Quirrell died?"

"No; I came before that, and so did a couple of others," said Proteus, smiling. Harry could see stained, skeletal teeth like Mortius's. "Bellona Euryton was the snake-thing you were introduced to at Halloween that the little Auror got rid of for you. However, one of us—Bona Dea Gialler, the timid little voice you heard Bellona bicker with—came after the death of the little boy. By the time you first met Quirrell, in Diagon Alley it had already been a year since his only child had been tortured to death by a couple of Death Eaters. He had to watch, by the way. You saw me take the reigns of the body once at Halloween." A wicked laugh came from that monstrous man, and then he started to approach Harry. "I'd get rid of you for the Dark Lord if I only had my wand. I'm heading over to Ollivander's to get another one. Potter, you'll see me again, and next time I'll be armed. Go take care of your little teacher for all I care. I have nothing further to do with her." Proteus Moon marched out of the area and only looked back twice to glare at Harry.

Harry wasn't worried too much about Proteus getting the better of him. He had survived Voldemort's attacks a number of times now, so minions didn't intimidate him too much. "Professor Loxias?" he said, trying to break the woman out of the trance. She was still mumbling something, as if she had completely broken down. Harry shook her a bit, and then noticed that her appearance had shifted once more. Her eyes had turned dark blue and her hair was a dark red.

"Get off me," a masculine voice came out of Loxias's mouth. She pushed Harry off with a strength that was most certainly unnatural for someone that delicate. "There are others that need this body more than that little harlot does."

'_What was the spell Nezura showed me?'_ Harry couldn't think…there was a spell that Nezura had used to get the possession problem to get rid of the snake creature, and she had shown it to Harry and said it would be a necessary spell to know while around Loxias. "Er…er…_Dispersium!"_ he shouted, hoping that was the proper incantation. The red smoke lunged out of Loxias, and seemed to die in the air before it scattered and exploded. Harry was quite glad that was over and done with. All the other "personalities" he had been introduced to at Halloween had been dispersed, save the timid little voice that Proteus had referred to as Bona Dea Gialler. But, Harry was pretty sure Bona Dea wasn't out to get him like Proteus and the other 'guests' Loxias had opened up to. Just in case, he checked to see if Loxias looked like her normal self before he tried to converse with her. The chanting had stopped, and Loxias seemed to be returning to consciousness. However, her hair had turned blonde and her eyes were now glowing lavender. "Er…who's this?"

"Bona Dea Gialler," said a timid, girlish voice. "Why?" The whole room began to shake, and something fell from the ceiling. A gale seemed to be blowing at Loxias, but Harry couldn't feel it. Gialler had been the person that had appeared in the Manipulations class! "Are you looking for someone else, like Loxia?"

"Actually, I am," Harry said, getting tired of dealing with these extra souls in Loxias's body. He wanted to know _why_ she was down here, and why these souls were so insistent upon getting out. He was quite annoyed with this, but wanted answers. _"Dispersium!"_ Bona Dea Gialler screamed in anguish as she was separated from the body and destroyed. Loxias seemed to be completely conscious once more, and reached into the bag she'd brought with her to pull out something Harry just _knew_ she'd bring anywhere; a bottle of splipberry wine. Actually, he'd been expecting it to be firewhiskey, but perhaps Loxias had run out of her supply. "Are you back to normal yet?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Yes, I think," said Loxias. "What are you talking about? I was in here for my meditation. I couldn't have been here too long; how the Hell did you know I was in here?" She seemed quite appalled to have Harry in here. "This was where my life took a drastic change for the worse, and I'm disgusted to see the little murderer's come back to where he made his first kill." She rolled up her sleeves and said, "Grab my wrists; I'm daring you, pervert. Let's see if I die by touching you."

'_And _**_why_**_ did I want to bring her back to her old self again?'_ Harry thought as he got even more annoyed with Loxias. "You need to get over Quirrell's death, Professor. It's been half a decade now, and you're not dead yet." He grabbed her wrists to see if anything would happen. Nothing did, except Loxias's eyes did something very weird until he let go. "Go find somebody else, _move on_, and stop being a bitch."

"If someone just as _spineless_ shows up, then I'll be sure to do so!" Loxias snapped. "Control is something I covet in a relationship; I prefer to be the one that makes decisions. In the marriage…er…it was like that?" She now sounded a bit confused about something. She put the incense burner in her bag and began to drink again. "Potter, move out of my way; I'm getting out of this place before the very aura of my surroundings kills me." She stomped off angrily and slammed the door behind her. Harry could hear it latch as well; it wasn't a good sound.

Now without any other choice, Harry gazed at the interior a bit more cautiously, just in case Loxias had left something in here to finish him off. It didn't take Harry too long to find the spot where he had nearly died with the Philosopher's Stone still clutched in his hand, and where Quirrell had died his painful death. The robe, sickeningly, was still there to mark the spot. '_I pity him for having a sick, twisted bitch like Loxias for a wife_,' Harry thought, '_maybe Voldemort first enticed him by offering to permanently shut her up_.' He looked about, and then discovered that Loxias had put her compact mirror in the robe's pocket. A little note was written in something that looked a lot like Latin, but Harry had no earthly idea what _'Durare Aevumi'_ meant. Oh well; if he remembered, he'd ask Hermione to define the words. Just a little curious as to what Loxias might have done to that mirror, Harry opened it. At a first glance, there seemed to be nothing wrong with it; it was only a tiny make-up mirror with a palate of eyeshadow on the bottom half.

Suddenly, the red, glowing smoke started to spray out of the little mirror. As soon as the smoke reached his nostrils, Harry could hear a voice in his mind, and memories were flooding him, only they weren't his. Everywhere was the scent of lavender. "Is anybody out there? I need help; hello? Please, somebody be out there!" the voice was echoing in his mind, and everything around him felt very cold, except the mirror, which was radiating a bit of warmth. His mind flooded with those foreign memories. A little girl was curled up in a corner, sipping on a glass of hot chocolate, until she spilled it. A First Year was practicing shielding spells with another girl…and _losing_. An argument began between a mother and daughter, and two bottles of white wine came crashing down from the cabinet. A thirteen-year-old was getting a tattoo of an Amphiptere on her left shoulder. A sixteen-year-old girl was dying her mousy brown hair black, and it was leaving a dark-purplish mess in the sink. A young lady walks up to the front of Hogwarts with her graduation papers, and has a successful expression on her dainty face. A long trip across the world with this young woman and five other friends begins in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Sargon Von Dorian and other faces appeared for very short glimpses…and then the smoke ceased for the moment. It weakly pulsed out of the mirror, and Harry could see another face in the mirror. It looked like Loxias, only with dark make-up, a nose ring, and spiked hair. He nearly dropped the mirror in surprise. "Hello," the lady in the mirror said. "How are you?" Her voice seemed to echo, only it wasn't in Harry's mind anymore; it was echoing around the room.

"Who are _you_?" Harry asked, unsure what to think of all this.

"I'm Stanzi Quirrell," she said flatly. "I've been stuck in here since 1987. If it is 1997, like Varinia claims, then I've resided in my make-up mirror for a whole damn decade. Well, I've introduced myself, so now I must ponder, who are you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, arching an eyebrow at this woman. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and seemed to be quite oblivious to what had all happened in the Wizarding World since her "death"—that is, if she was telling the truth. "Who's Varinia?"

"That bitch that's parading around as me," Stanzi said, her voice resonating. "I'm eternally young in this glass prison, but I want out of here. I want to throttle that slut."

"Hold on," Harry said, beginning to piece all of this together. "How can I trust in what you're saying? For all I know, you could be telling me a lie."

"What have I got to gain in lying to you?" Stanzi said in an icy voice that was _quite_ different from the voice that Loxias used. "She calls herself Professor _Loxias_, doesn't she?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "She does. Wasn't that your maiden name?"

"No, it wasn't," Stanzi said darkly. "Before I married, I was Constanza Eris _Talus_. Varinia _Loxias_ is an old foe of mine that I made in New Orleans when I went with five other friends around the world to work on my Transfigurations and Manipulations degrees. At LéAvíans University—the place where I graduated and got my double Conjuror's Degrees—one of the things you've got to do to receive credit for Manipulations is visit a foreign country and encounter something you've never faced before. I visited seven because I love to travel. My favorite stop was Romania, because I got to interview someone from the famous Von Dorian clan. Honestly, everyone else in my group had trouble with Sargon Von Dorian, but I never got a chance to meet him. The fellow I interviewed was _Lawrence_ Von Dorian, and he was quite a gentleman. Honestly, I don't see why I didn't wed a vampire when I had the chance; Lawrence was the sexiest guy I had the pleasure to ever meet."

"You married Quirrell, though," Harry pointed out. "Why?"

"He was quite a gutsy guy when I met him," Stanzi admitted. "Besides, he and I had common interests. On the trip, though, I think Darius spooked him a bit. After that little mishap, he never wanted to even _mention_ vampires again. Damn, I think vampires are fascinating people, though…or at least _Lawrence_ was interesting."

"Well, I think we wandered off topic a little," Harry said. "What about Varinia?"

"Varinia's a lamia, first off," Stanzi said. "My mum was a banshee, but I'm a full human otherwise. Varinia and I had our first confrontation in New Orleans, and I made for myself quite an enemy. She got me with the _Avada Kedavra_ when I was at Occasion Alley buying something for my son, Cecil. I got it full blast, but I jumped into here because death is one of the few things I don't want to face. My body was buried, and Varinia shifted into me, claiming she was me returned from the grave. Apparently, my husband believed her until very late 1991 when he got hold of the mirror I'm occupying. I had a conversation with him to straighten things out, but he died a few months later. Varinia got the mirror back, and I've been in her possession ever since." She put her palms up to the mirror glass and said, "If you don't believe me, I understand, but please, Potter, I'm begging you, don't give me back to Varinia Loxia."

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he should view Stanzi Quirrell as a credible source. He'd need a second opinion, or perhaps even a third. "I won't give you back; I think I'll keep you with me, instead. But, I don't know whether or not I'm supposed to view you as being completely honest. Who were the other four people besides Quirrell and you that went on that trip?"

"Michelle and Audrey Tawny are dead; Varinia killed them," Stanzi said. "The only two people you could probably talk to, that are still alive, are Nat Biddle and Alex Furrier."

Harry remembered that Natalie Biddle was in St. Mungo's, so now the only living person he could talk to about that trip (besides Stanzi) was Professor Furrier. He closed up the mirror and put it in his pocket. All of a sudden, Harry remembered he was stuck in here because Loxias had locked him in. He was about to panic, until he remembered the knife Sirius had given him. What a relief; it was in his left pocket along with the mirror! The doors unlocked as Harry picked them with the knife, and it wasn't hard at all to get out once he began. He decided to look around in the Special Interest library to see if he could find anything interesting. "May I help you?" said a male voice from behind Harry. "Oh, hi Harry! Are you looking for something?"

"Phoebus?" Harry said, looking behind to see his Quidditch coach. "What are you doing?"

"I'm the Special Interest librarian," Phoebus said. "I had to get a secondary job, you know."

"I'm looking for a book on Necromancy. Would it be in here?" Harry asked. Phoebus escorted him to a row dedicated entirely to Necromancy. There were over forty books, and most of them were written by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. It was obvious that woman had a monopoly on Dark Arts literature. Harry picked up a book called Communing with the Dead and got Phoebus to check it out for him. "Does this library have a Restricted Section?"

"No," said Phoebus. "This is the Restricted Section of the other library, actually. Only teachers and students Year Five and up may be allowed in here." He looked at the book Harry was going to borrow and raised an eyebrow. "You're taking Afterlight Necromancy?" When Harry nodded to indicate he was, Phoebus shrugged his shoulders and gave Harry the book. "Well, best of luck. That stuff's just a bit too creepy for me, dude."

Harry put the book away in his dorm room, and then walked back into the Gryffindor Common Room. Nobody else was in there, except Atticus, and he looked absolutely devastated about the news of his grandfather's death. "Atticus, are you going to be okay?" asked Harry, worried a bit about his friend. "Would you like me to stay in here with you, or would you rather me leave you alone?"

"I don't care either way," Atticus said bitterly as he blew his nose with a handkerchief. "Just go; you've got a Hawkbane meeting with Snitchgrass tomorrow. Don't worry about me; I just found out my Gramps was slaughtered by Death Eaters last night. Draco told me at dinner." His fists were clenched. "When I find out who did this, I'll make sure they're _all_ turned to granite." Despite the fact that Atticus was still wearing his sunglasses, Harry could see tears coming down his friend's cheeks. "I'll just look at them face-to-face until their lives are forever sucked out."

Harry knew what Atticus was capable of, and knew that he meant what he said and never exaggerated. "Maybe you should talk to Darius—"

"Did you just call Ahsimal by his first name?" Atticus asked, his tone a bit amused. "You know Cassandra did that too, right? Did you make friends with him?"

"Yes, I did," Harry said. "We fooled Ebonyste today."

"Well, that's just great," Atticus said sarcastically. "I think he and Skylarke are responsible for the deaths somehow. You know he used to be Voldemort's right-hand man, right?"

Harry didn't answer Atticus. Instead, he went up to his dorm and went to sleep.

Harry's dream that night was unusual, but he couldn't remember it in the morning. The only thing he could recall about it was that Loxias and Stanzi dueled to the death, but he was unable to tell who had won, since they looked almost entirely identical. The dream had a very weird ending to it, but Harry had no recollections. It was about nine in the morning when he woke up, and he rushed to get ready. After he was finished, he scurried down for a late breakfast. The only other student still down there was Marcus. "Hello, Marcus," Harry said, trying to strike a conversation.

"Hi," Marcus said curtly, looking down at his sausage as if he was going to be sick if he ate another piece. "How are you?" His voice had no tone whatsoever in it; it was very flat.

"Tired; how about you?" Harry said, hoping he could get more out of Marcus.

"Confused," Marcus replied. "I thought you were making up all that stuff about my dad being Mortius. I wrote my mum about it, and I got a rather disturbing reply. I'm sorry that I doubted your word and accused you of being like Lisa; turns out you were telling the truth and I was just too stubborn to believe you. However, you've got to see how I'd want to disbelieve what you said. My dad's the greatest Slayer that ever lived, even if he _is_ Mortius, and I still admire him. After all, it's no easy feat to kill even _one_ lamia. They're some pretty tough monsters." At that moment, the bell rang. "Well, I've got to meet up with Loxias for my Hawkbane session. Since Parenein died, Loxias graciously became my sponsor. I guess I'll talk to you later, Harry."

"Okay, Marcus; take care," Harry said, relieved that Marcus believed him. However, he was a bit unsure of what to think of Marcus still viewing his dad as a hero. He finished his poppy seed muffin very quickly and then ran up a couple of staircases to Turret Twelve. Snitchgrass opened the door and smiled when she saw Harry. "Good morning, Lucinda."

"Good morn to you too, 'Arry," said Snitchgrass, taking a seat at her desk. "Vould you like a splipberry nectar or somezing else to drink?"

"I'm good; thanks for asking," Harry said. "Er…Lucinda, when's the next Advanced Astrology class going to take place?"

"Monday morning, actually," Snitchgrass said in her strange accent. "Is zere anyzing in particular you vould like to talk to me about, 'Arry?" She picked up a glass of splipberry nectar and began to guzzle it down as quickly as humanly possible. Her right foot began to twitch a bit in her pointy shoes. Harry could see her striped stockings from underneath her plum purple robes. After she finished her drink, Snitchgrass moved on to smoking an old-fashioned, long cigarette. "Vell, is zere anyzing at all you vould like to discuss?"

"Er…" Harry said, unsure what he wanted to talk about. "Do you think it's a gorgonix that's killing everyone up at Hogwarts or something else?"

"I zink it vas Cassandra Snape," Snitchgrass said flatly. "She killed Icarus, didn't she? Vat vould 'ave stopped 'er from 'arming all zose others? It's not like that little creep vas ever popular."

"I was friends with Cassandra," Harry snapped. "She killed Parenein to protect me. You _did_ know Parenein was a Death Eater, didn't you?" Apparently, Snitchgrass hadn't known that, because a look of sheer surprise appeared on her scarred, aging face. Her pale aqua eyes were wide open, and her bottom lip was trembling a bit. "You mean you _didn't_ know?"

"NO! I didn't!" Snitchgrass yelped, taking another heavy puff of her cigarette. "Zat's a shocker vor me; Icarus, in league vith He-Oo-Mus'-Not-Be-Named? Surely not Icarus, 'Arry!"

"He and Mortius were trying to kill me," Harry said coldly. "You're my Hawkbane. Where were you at? You could have warned me!"

"I didn't know abou' Icky," Snitchgrass snapped, inhaling cigarette smoke again. "And who's Mortius? I've never heard of someone by zat name before."

"Then you obviously don't read the Daily Prophet, Lucinda," said Malfoy, coming in. Harry groaned in agony; he forgot that Snitchgrass was now sponsoring Malfoy as well. "He's been on the front page consecutively for the past five weeks, pretty impressive. Marcus is very proud of his dad's work, although I think it's pretty safe to say Mortius can't even finish a task without messing it up beyond repair. At least, that's what Leah Crowe's been writing in the paper. You remember Leah, don't you, Potter? She's that beanpole that wanted to interview us for saving Nezura."

Harry sighed. Luckily, he didn't remember that much about Leah Crowe, except that she was a bit melodramatic and looked (like Malfoy had just said) like a beanpole. "Leah Crowe," Snitchgrass repeated. "Er…I vas interviewed numerous times by 'er mother, Kathy Crowe. However, zose vere in my days as Quidditch hot-shot. Now I am Hawkbane; merely Hawkbanes."

"I'm sure Snape or Skylarke would kill to be Hawkbanes," Malfoy said. "Why didn't any of you nominate either one of them into the Society?"

"Darius nominated zem both," Snitchgrass answered angrily. "I vould not tolerate Severus's temper, and Morty's nothing less zan a freak ov nature. You know vat he's like; scary. Alex approved Morty, but none ov ze others did, thank za stars. Ve all thought zat Constanza vould make a marvelous Hawkbane, save Darius. 'Ave you gotten a chance to see her school record? She vas Head Girl of Ravenclaw at one time, and graduated vith Honors at LéAvíans University. Another person 'as been requested by some of za other Hawkbanes—zat is, everyone but Darius—and zat vould be ze new Manipulations teacher, Jules Pyrites. He shows a lot ov promise."

Harry knew that Pyrites was really Mortius, and he was sure Malfoy knew that as well, since he had a big grin on his face. However, Snitchgrass seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that she had let a very rancid Death Eater escape right under her nose at least twice this year. "What about Nezura?"

"What abou' Nezura, 'Arry?" Snitchgrass hissed. "She's not Hawkbane material. Too giggly, and never focuses on her vork."

"Oh, really? Then how'd Lewn get to be a Hawkbane?" Harry asked cynically.

"She got in because, despite vat you might zink abou' Claire, she is genius," snarled Snitchgrass. "_I_ vas taught by Claire at one time an' look 'ow I turned out!" She finished her cigarette and then moved on to smoking another one. "I vill see za both of you on Monday. Until zen, I leave you vith zees vords…vatch your back. Someone at zis school might still be a hazard."

"How would you know?" Malfoy asked, reaching for something in his pocket.

"The stars 'ave told me," said Snitchgrass. Her voice was very sarcastic. "Get out."

"What did we—"

"OUT!" Snitchgrass shouted, cutting off Malfoy. "I vant you out! I'm expecting a guest via za fireplace, so zis meeting's being cut short. I'm sure neither of you vill object to zat, anyway." She pushed Malfoy out the door, and then did the same to Harry. "I'll be seeing you Monday."

"My, my, old Lucy's gotten rude," Malfoy said, brushing off his robes. "So, how goes everything with you, Potter? Are you as miserable as usual?"

"Worse," Harry said, thinking about poor Stanzi being stuck in a mirror for ten years, Cassandra being in Azkaban, Skylarke for being a subject of ridicule among the other teachers, and for Darius still grieving over the loss of Sargon Von Dorian. "But I think there are others that are in a deeper state of misery, if you know what I mean."

"I'm pretty miserable too," Malfoy admitted. "This year's been terrible. I can't stand Lucinda, and it sucks because I miss Wolfe and those other nitwits he was sponsoring. I think I was the only sponsored student of his that had a whole brain, but it made me feel great being superior to everyone in there. You know me; I'm better than everybody else, and I like it when people acknowledge that as a fact. What could _possibly_ be wrong with _you_?"

"Cassandra," Harry said angrily, not really wanting to start teasing with Malfoy. "She's in Azkaban for life, only because she watched out for me. Do you have any idea how much guilt that's placed on me? I'm over here, as safe as possible, and she's over there, facing true terror. I saw what Azkaban did to Sirius and the Lestranges. Damn, I don't want that to happen to my friend, even if she _is_ a vampire and scares the bloody Hell out of you or anyone else."

"Then get a group of people together and bust her out of that hellhole," Malfoy snapped. "The Slytherin Tower's never been this noisy before, and I'm almost beginning to feel sorry for Apathy and Zabini." He took a deep breath and said, "The key word was '_almost_,' by the way. Now, you'll have to excuse me. Marcus and I have something we need to take care of."

Harry looked around and realized that only Snitchgrass had excused her sponsored students. Ron, Hermione, Josh, Celia, Atticus, Rhianna; all of his friends in the Hawkbane program were still talking to their sponsoring professors. Immediately, his mind focused on Neville, Luna, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Blaise; none of them were in the Hawkbane program! He could find someone to talk to _easily_.

"Push that a little more to the right!" Nezura shouted to Ebonyste. "No! NO! The _right_, not the _left_! Honestly, I'm beginning to question your intelligence, Adonis!" Harry walked by and waved to the two professors. "Harry, it's obvious your Foreign Magic teacher doesn't know what he's doing. Could you _please_ help him pack my things?"

"Sure, no problem, Professor Nezura. Er…are you going somewhere?" Harry asked, unsure as to what Nezura meant by '_packing up her things_.' Was she leaving Hogwarts, or heading off somewhere for a couple of days? What did she mean? Where was she going?

"Yes, I am," Nezura said, giggling. "I've got a new lead in the Remus Lupin case. I can't teach here anymore, because the lead's over in Canada. A replacement is going to be found as soon as possible, don't worry. I'm sure not too many of you students will miss me, though. It's not like I was your favorite teacher or anything like that." She waved her hand vertically and coiled it back, as if what she was saying was only trivial in importance. "I bet in a few years, you won't even remember me, Mitzi K. Nezura, the little lady you rescued from a Death Eater in 1996." She scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and gave it to Harry. "I'll be in Toronto. That's in Ontario, Canada, in case Adonis didn't teach you that in Foreign Magic."

"I'm going to teach the Sixth Years about Canada, thank you very much, you little munchkin!" Ebonyste shouted at Nezura in a flattering way. He grabbed a purple bra out of Nezura's panties drawer and waved it in the air. "Oh, this is sexy. I think I'll keep this to remember you by, Mitzi!"

"NO!" Nezura screamed in comical anger. She started jumping up and down, trying to get her bra back, but Ebonyste had dangled it high up, and way above the little Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's grasp. "Those were never meant for your eyes, Adonis Ebonyste! They're mine, and mine alone, so give that bra back to its rightful owner; ME!"

"I want to keep it, so I will," Ebonyste said, giggling. "Come and get it, midget!" He kept on laughing, and his ears were bouncing up and down to emphasize his excitement. Nezura walked up to him and kicked him right between the legs. Ebonyste collapsed to the floor and gave Nezura her undergarment back. "Ow…you're truly evil, Professor Pipsqueak!"

Nezura stuck her nose up in the air, and put her glasses on her baby-doll face. "You didn't see that," she said to Harry, putting the bra back where it belonged. "_Please_ tell me you didn't see what Adonis pulled out." She waved a little fist at him teasingly and said, "You tell and you die, do I make myself clear, Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said, and winked at Nezura. He was going to miss her. "Be careful in Canada, okay? Don't let your guard down." He helped her pack a couple of suitcases, and then he noticed that everything was packed. Harry grabbed two very large suitcases, Ebonyste (back up already) dragged a couple of heavy items, and Nezura was rolling a suitcase with wheels that seemed to be the same size as her, and twice her weight. "I'm going to miss you."

"Aw! That's so sweet!" Nezura said, and then wrapped her arms around Harry. "I'm going to miss all of my students, but I'll miss you and Draco the most. This is really tearing me in two; I'd love to stay here with you and the others, but now my work—which I also love—is tearing me apart from the people that I'm supposed to try my best to protect. If ever you need me to come back for any particular reason, I'll return as quickly as possible. Just write me." She kissed his cheek and said, "You know, you're always going to be one of my two heroes. Tell Draco I'll miss him!"

"Damn it, Mitzi," Ebonyste said. "I wanted a kiss! Harry, you're one lucky son of a witch." He pouted his bottom lip and said, "Wait until Gilderoy gets his memory back, and then we'll see if he gives me my proper credit in Voyages with Vampires! If our dear friend does me that favor, then rest assured I'll never have to work at Hogwarts again." He got on his knees and said, "Mitzi, don't go; I love you."

"Stop joking, Adonis," Nezura said, tying the laces on her black Mary Jane's. "I'm not in the mood for one of your funny little jokes right now. I'm leaving, and that's that." She put on her pinstripe fedora to match her little ensemble she was wearing. She looked like a character out of a 1940s mafia movie. A pair of spiral earrings were dangling down from her ears, and she applied a little bit of red lipstick onto her tiny mouth. "Harry, be glad I didn't have any lipstick on when I kissed your cheek. I could have been accused of being a cradle robber had I done that."

Ebonyste grabbed Nezura's right arm and began to pull her back. "NO! You can't go, Mitzi! I won't let you leave Hogwarts; it's not safe out there!" His long ears were drooping now, and his light blue eyes seemed to have been amplified because they were wet with tears.

"Well, of _course_ it's not safe out there," Nezura said angrily. "Let go of my arm, you jerk! I'm not expecting it to be safe because I'm an _Auror_, remember? For Heaven's sake, Don!" She was flailing her little legs up in the air, but it seemed easy enough for Ebonyste to pick her up. "Put me down this instant, Adonis! You're going to hurt me."

"I'm warning you, Mitzi," Ebonyste said, sounding quite serious. "Don't go to Toronto."

"I'm already going!" Nezura snapped, breaking free of Ebonyste's grasp. "Harry, I'll miss you and Draco so much. Tell Ron and Hermione I said goodbye, too, okay? Now, before I go, is there anything you'd like me to answer for you?"

"You and Ebonyste know Lockhart?" Harry asked, looking at her curiously. Nezura and Ebonyste both nodded to indicate that they did know Gilderoy Lockhart. "Was that hand that Ebonyste gave you really Lupin's?"

"Yes, it was," Nezura said tearfully. "The poor guy. I let Professor Lewn and a few other Clairvoyants in the school test it for me, so there's no question about it belonging to him. It's odd; all the leads I've been given lately seemed to take me straight into dead ends. This time I got the lead from a fellow I know from work at the Ministry of Magic. You _do_ know Lucius Malfoy, right? He hand-delivered this unsigned letter to me. He didn't write it, but it seems that somebody sent him a lead anonymously. Since this is _my_ case to investigate, I'm going to Canada to see if this is another fraud or if this unknown source was telling the truth. Sure, it's risky, but so is almost everything else I do. If I don't take risks, I'll never end up being as good as Mad-Eye Moody."

"Will you write me?" asked Harry, hoping that Nezura would say 'yes' to that. He viewed her as a pretty good friend, and since she was working on trying to find answers behind Lupin's death twenty-four hours a day, and seven days a week, he'd be able to get the best evidence from her…if only she'd write him.

"I promise I will," Nezura said, and winked at Harry. "Don't raise Hell with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher unless he or she threatens you, okay?" She embraced him once more and then rushed off. For some odd reason, Harry had a rather strong feeling that he was never going to see her again. It was as if Nezura was marching off into the unknown, with no intentions of looking back. "Goodbye!"

"Mitzi…" Ebonyste said in a cracked, teary voice. He rushed off, his face in his hands and his long ears drooping in agony. Harry could hear him sobbing all the way down the hall. He said his final goodbyes to Nezura as she walked out to the carriage awaiting her.

It was a long, depressing Saturday. Atticus was still upset about losing his grandfather, Ron wanted to spend all his time with Celia and nobody else, Hermione was busy writing a letter to Krum and didn't want to be disturbed by even Harry, Marcus and Rick were nowhere to be found, and Naomi was studying in the library with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. "What's wrong?" Dean asked, sitting down next to Harry outside. "You look as if you just lost your best friend or something. You didn't get in a fight with Ron or Hermione, did you? Even if you did, you've still got Seamus and me, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, giving his friend a weak smile. "It's just, the reason I was out here alone was because I just saw Nezura leave Hogwarts—"

"You've got to be joking," Dean said, his face turning pale. "You mean to tell me that Hogwarts no longer has a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and it's only _November?_ The Ministry of Magic might appoint another person like _Umbridge_ if we don't do something about it!"

"Did I hear you correctly?" a deep, dismal voice said from behind Dean and Harry. Both of them could smell bad, rotten breath. Knowing already who it was, Harry rolled his eyes; it had to be Snape. "Mitzi left Hogwarts without as much as a letter to Dumbledore? That is indeed odd, especially since she was so determined to get this job to begin with. It's not like I'm complaining, though. Perhaps now I'll have a chance to get the career I have been hoping to earn for _years_." Snape got a very unattractive smile on his pallid face, and Harry could see all those uneven teeth. "In a way, I'm glad she left. Mitzi was beginning to get on my nerves with all of her pointless jabbering at faculty meetings. If my luck doesn't run out, you'll see me in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday afternoon." After that very unpleasant thought was placed in Harry's mind, Snape walked off. "Now, you'll have to excuse me, Thomas, Potter; I need to talk to Morty."

"That would really suck if _Snape_ taught Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dean said. "Remember what happened when he substituted for Lupin three years ago? Wasn't it dreadful?"

"Yeah, it was," Harry admitted. He still had his essay Snape had made him do about werewolves somewhere in his dorm. The memory of that terrible day was forever etched into his mind. "Snape should _never_ get that position. Maybe Dumbledore will find somebody better."

"I'm not so sure he'll do that," Dean admitted. "He did have some problems with Quirrell, Lockhart, _and_ Moody, didn't he?"

"But what about Lupin and Nezura? We never had that many issues with either of them," Harry pointed out. "Look, Dean, I trust in Dumbledore's judgment. It's not his fault that Quirrell tried to kill me, Lockhart was a fraud, and that Moody turned out to be an impostor. It's also most certainly _not_ his fault that Umbridge was a wicked, conniving bitch."

"Amen to that," Dean said, laughing. "When we made voodoo dolls in Skylarke's class, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender and I made our dolls of Umbridge. I couldn't stand her, and Nezura was a nice little relief; cute, too. I liked the way she'd giggle at any joke Seamus would tell her. I just hope our next professor's that friendly. Whatever he's like, I hope he sure knows what he's doing."

"Yeah," Harry agreed entirely with what Dean was saying. "I'd hate to have another fraud try to teach us. It could really do a lot of damage to our experience, you know. Perhaps the DA should have a meeting soon, just in case we get another Dolores Umbridge. I'll see you later, Dean. I'm heading off to an empty place so I can concentrate on something."

"All right, Harry," said Dean. He walked down a couple of staircases and said, "I think I might go pay Hagrid a visit, like you, Ron and Hermione do sometimes. I just hope Colin and Dennis aren't in there." He shuddered. "Ack…they're really beginning to get annoying."

"_Beginning_ to get annoying, Dean? They've been annoying for ages!" Harry shouted as he tried to find a place where he couldn't be disturbed with the conversation he wanted to have with Stanzi. He found that his feet were taking him up to the Aerie. Perhaps his subconscious knew something his conscious mind didn't, but he just followed his instincts, hoping that he wouldn't get lost in the Labyrinth or run into something awful.

As soon as Harry reached the Labyrinth, he looked around to see if any teachers were in sight. The only person that was in Harry's eyesight was Sebastian, and he didn't seem to notice Harry's presence. Knowing that the Aerie was a place that was supposed to be off limits, Harry prayed that nobody would see him enter in that direction. He ran into the entrance as quickly as possible, so quickly that he forgot to use a lighting spell on his wand. After running for a while, Harry suddenly realized that he had surrounded himself in a very dark setting, where he could hardly see anything. The entrance he'd came into the Labyrinth from was nowhere to be seen; he'd run for nearly five minutes without stopping. None of the statues looked familiar to him; they were some he hadn't seen (or noticed) on previous visits. They were much more pleasant than the ones that involved monsters and Death Eaters. There was one of a unicorn with a little girl that looked a lot like Giselle on its back that made Harry smile. Another one looked as if it was a Greek goddess with long ears and butterfly-type wings; a fairy, obviously. _"Lumos!"_ Harry glanced at his surroundings, with the tip of his wand lit so he could get a better view. He nearly jumped when he saw a statue of Nezura. Right next to it was one of Umbridge. Statues of Moody, Lupin, Lockhart, and Quirrell were close by as well, as well as numerous other people Harry could only guess were the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers of days past. He read under the statue of Moody: **Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody**, **1994-1995**. The other statues gave out the names and years each professor had taught at Hogwarts on a small plaque. Harry ran back a long while until he came to the statue of Tybalt Tellulan; it seemed that Tellulan taught his position for fifteen years before Snape used the Death Curse on him. The statues looked like the professors, but most of them were by no means flattering. Tellulan looked like the mess Harry had seen him as in the memories he'd looked into. He was definitely the same cold-blooded murderer, even when set in stone. Moody looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, Lockhart was primping with a mirror, Quirrell appeared to be in a state of panic, Umbridge was sneering, Nezura had a very goofy smile on her face and was dressed in the ninja costume from Halloween, and Lupin looked very tired. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Medusa herself had made eye contact with each of these professors and frozen them forever in time, eternally resting in a stone prison.

There was no doubt about any of this; Harry realized he had no idea where he was anymore, and this was a part of Hogwarts he had only seen a few other people walking about in, none of which had the best reputation. "Why didn't I think to light my wand?" he grumbled to himself. Angry at his rash actions of running, Harry grabbed a green marble hand that had fallen off a statue of a gnarled old woman in a nightgown that read _Felicia Tarleton_, 1923-1961, on the plaque and threw it at another statue (a beefy man with a walrus mustache named _Glaucus Goldman_, 1976-1986). The sound it made could be heard all over the surroundings, since the noises other people made were no longer within Harry's earshot. Nobody else was anywhere near him, at least, not that he knew about. Felicia Tarleton's hand fell to the ground and shattered into two pieces. After it quit moving and settled on the floor with some of the other rubble, everything was silent, except Harry's patterned breathing. A few seconds later, Harry could feel the ground shaking, and a moment after that sensation began, he could see the statues were shaking in their places. It sounded like thunder, and pieces of the crumbling mosaic ceiling were falling to the limestone floor with the intensity. It stopped for a brief instant, and then Harry heard a loud, resonating roar echo all throughout the Labyrinth. He knew what that roar had meant immediately, and it all seemed to connect in his mind perfectly. Now he understood why Quirrell's troll hadn't been where it had once helped guard the Philosopher's Stone…it was roaming around in the Labyrinth.

Harry could feel it coming closer to him every step it took. The light would bring the stupid thing closer, but he knew that he didn't stand a chance against a troll (he didn't have Ron or Hermione to help him out this time) if he couldn't see where it was heading. He thought about his options, and finally decided his best chance for survival would be to run for it. Bent down and ready to sprint, he mentally began to count to three. By the time he reached "two" and started to run, a hand clutched his left shoulder and jerked him back behind the statue of Glaucus Goldman. Harry wanted to scream (that hand felt like only the bones were left and he could smell the sickeningly-sweet aroma of decomposition), but a cadaverous hand covered his mouth. He fought against it and managed to get himself free. The troll was close by, and he no longer could have run away successfully. He turned around to see who it was that had grabbed at him. The ghastly sight made him want to scream, vomit, and run away all at the same time.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen:

Zombies, Living Dead, and Other Nasties

"What are you staring at?" a decayed, grating voice said angrily. "I just rescued you, didn't I? It's not polite to stare."

But, Harry felt he had a reason to stare at his rescuer; he was most certainly dead, and had been so for quite some time. "Er…who are you?"

"You don't recognize me from the little memories Skylarke and Sebastian let you view? I know about them because I am a very skilled Clairvoyant and know such things," the dead thing said, its jawbone swinging very loosely. Black, dried-up veins and rotten flesh were all raggedy on the edges of the joints, and small black insects were crawling about a bit. "Honestly, you watched as I made my first kill. I thought you'd remember me better than this." It flexed its fingers about and let out the most disgusting laugh Harry had ever heard. "I am a legend, you know; one of the most heroic figures to ever teach at Hogwarts. My name will ring on for all eternity! Do you even _remember_ me?" Harry looked at the rotting corpse in horror, and began to back up defensively, until he tripped on the sandstone foot of Glaucus Goldman. "You saw me kill, and you saw me be killed by a sniveling student! I have no idea who you are, lad, but surely you've at least _heard _of me. An entire section of a chapter in your History of Magic textbook was devoted to me, one of the most powerful contemporary wizards to ever grace this world! Have you still no idea what my name is? Obviously you don't recognize me."

"If you could see yourself in a mirror, surely _you_ wouldn't recognize yourself," Harry said, pointing a trembling finger at the corpse. "You're dead and it's _apparent_ you've been so for quite some time. May I still ask of you what your name was?"

"What's with the past tense? My name is _still_ Tybalt Tellulan!" the corpse snarled, its worm-eaten fists trembling with rage. "The Necromancy Resurrection I took part in got _seriously_ botched, as you can see. Do you take Darius's course? If you do, would you mind helping me out?"

Harry bit his lip, a bit unsure of what to think. Tellulan had been dead for decades. "You know it is 1996, right? You died in 1976, twenty years ago. A lot has changed—"

"Look at me," Tellulan snapped; another black insect crawled through his bone-colored, large teeth. "Would you _ever_ want to look like this? Surely you understand why I want to be fully Resurrected and of course you wouldn't grudge a man that has done you no wrong anything so trivial? I'm a hero and should live on forever. Had it not been for me, Lord Voldemort would have triumphed over the Wizarding World two decades ago. I stalled him as best I could so the prophecy could be fulfilled. I did my best, but a minion of his got the better of me--"

"You didn't try to slow him down," Harry said angrily. "You nearly thrashed Aldebaran Black to death, and you succeeded in murdering Sebastian Argentum and all those other people, yet you never took the responsibility for your actions."

"Now, now…I've got a reason for that," Tellulan argued. "Sebastian and the others got in the way of Thanatos—that would be the name of my gorgonix; I was possessed by one, you know—and so he killed them while I was out of consciousness. I couldn't risk getting exposed, because that would have put an end to all of my noble work—"

"_Noble_? Are you mad?" Harry was outraged by the sadistic, twisted mindset of this man. It was so easy for him to come to the assumption that Tybalt Tellulan had been, and still was, _insane_. Tellulan grabbed his hand and started to pull him back once more. Harry retaliated and managed to get away. A roar boomed from behind him; Quirrell's troll had seen him, and was beginning its game of cat and mouse (in which, of course, the cat had a very slow mentality). "Do you know how to get out of here?"

"I'll tell you if you help me," Tellulan said icily. "I'm already dead, so it doesn't matter if I die again. I'm stuck this way until somebody fixes my little problem." He added very dryly, "Yeah, Severus; thanks a lot, you greasy-headed son of a bitch."

Tellulan looked up and seemed to face Harry. However, Harry wasn't sure how Tellulan could see; his eyeballs had already rotted out of his head a long time ago. "Look at what I've become. It's an embarrassment that will haunt me for eternity if not fixed. Do you know what it's like to see everyone repulse away from you?"

Harry knew how that felt; he remembered the sensation of having everyone back away when it was discovered he was a Parselmouth back in his second year. Tellulan was stuck on himself, but it was very sad to listen to him. His words had a calming effect on Harry's mind, and it was easy to see why he was so manipulative in the days in which he lived. He spoke so persuasively, Harry almost found himself falling into that horrid trap he was sure Tellulan was setting for him. "You attacked Sebastian and all those others. What's stopping you from getting to me?" It didn't make sense; Tellulan had attacked several, yet seemed to show no violence to Harry.

"You're the prophecy fulfilled, my life's work completed," Tellulan said as sweetly as a dead man could. "Why would I harm you? I have no such intentions of doing so."

"But you were a Death Eater," Harry said, in no mood for small talk with a rotting body. He could feel the mirror in his pocket burning in a furious manner, as if Stanzi Quirrell was trying her best to get his attention. Tellulan started to approach him, his arms outstretched, and a grotesque, mocking smile curled up on what was left of his lips. "I'm warning you; get away from me."

Harry blinked his eyes, and Tellulan was gone. "Hello?" Not a single reply came from the corpse, but it was apparent that the troll was getting closer by the second. A roar sounded to emphasize that fact, and so did the complete crumbling of Felicia Tarleton's statue. Harry pondered for a moment what a good spell to use on a troll would be, and then he got his chance to prove what he felt that answer was, "_Avada Kedavra!_" The troll fell to the ground, dead, but now Harry felt the weight of using the Death Curse, even if it was only on a troll. If he was ever inquired about it, he'd just say he'd used it in self defense, which was nothing more than the actual truth. Tellulan was gone, as if Harry had only imagined his being there only moments ago.

For a brief instant, the only thing Harry could hear was his own swift breathing, but then there was the pattering of footsteps, and a glowing red light. "Is anybody down 'ere?" a female voice echoed off the walls. "I heard somezing; please, show me vere you are. I promise zat I'm not going to 'urt you, unless you're 'ere on forbidden business." The holder of the light came closer to Harry, and finally appeared to be recognizable, only it couldn't be who Harry thought she was. "If you're 'ere to harm somebody, then it's my responsibility to report you! After all, I'm a prefect." Her light brown hair was pulled up into two braided buns, and her pale aqua eyes seemed to be staring right through Harry, as if he wasn't there. Immediately, Harry realized this was Snitchgrass's younger self, and that somehow he was seeing a part of the past.

"I knew you'd follow me," said another familiar voice. A male figure appeared out of the shadows, beside the Felicia Tarleton statue (which was somehow no longer cracked and crumbled), and laughed. When the red light hit his face, Harry was struck with a sickening realization; it was Tom Riddle. "You know how to get out of the Labyrinth, right?"

"Yes, I do," Snitchgrass said in a hissing voice. Her foot was tapping on the floor, and a few strands of hair came loose from her hairdo. She didn't look like she was in the best of moods. "You know 'ow as vell, obviously. Vi do you vander about by yourself on a March day, Tom?"

"I was trying to get away from Dumbledore," Riddle said, laughing. "He's always keeping a very close watch on me and any friends of mine…I hate that feeling of pressure. You know what I'm talking about, of course. He observes you as well." He grabbed Snitchgrass by the shoulders and dragged her closer. "Come here, Lucinda. Nobody else is around—"

"Vat about Dumbledore?" Snitchgrass asked, not really objecting to being pulled over.

Riddle started unraveling Snitchgrass's braided buns and rubbing her shoulders. "I'm daring him to watch us for what we're about to do. If he's over here, I'm going to lose my sanity, honest." Snitchgrass was pulled over closer, and then something quite unexpected happened…Harry saw his Hawkbane embrace and then lock lips with the future Lord Voldemort. "Promise to be with me for eternity, Lucinda?"

"If somezing happens, it'll change nothing," Snitchgrass said, making sucking sounds on Riddle's neck. "I'm yours forever. Nothing vill get in my vay."

Riddle smiled and let Snitchgrass continue to throw her passionate kisses. "Yes, that's right. You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" Snitchgrass nodded her head enthusiastically. "I knew I could count on you. Perhaps you could help me in making Bartholomew disappear?" Snitchgrass laughed along with Riddle, and then the memory was apparently over.

Harry felt like he was really going to be sick. First it was the troll, and then it was Tellulan, and then it was the troll again, and finally, it was Snitchgrass and Voldemort. Right then and there, Harry decided that he would never again confide in Lucinda Snitchgrass, and would request to have another Hawkbane as soon as possible. Darius was the head of the program, and had only selected one student to sponsor so far, and that had been a Slytherin. Perhaps Harry could talk his newly-found friend and ally into becoming his Hawkbane, if he actually needed one to continue in the program. Finally, Harry could see the entrance to the Aerie. Glad that he now knew where it was he was going, he started heading off toward his original destination.

Once the stairs had been climbed, and all the doors were closed, Harry reached the room where he and Malfoy had first spoken about Cyanis and Skylarke earlier that year. It had only been a few months ago, but it seemed like years had already passed by in-between that time and the present. The mirror was burning hot as he pulled it out of his pocket. He tossed it to the floor, and tried to ease the pain in his hands. The mirror case opened, and he could see Stanzi's face staring right back at him. "I see I finally got your attention," she said in a rather angry-sounding voice. "You tapped into a space that wasn't supposed to be disturbed by the Living. By walking up to that chamber of statues, and actually touching a few of them, you might have brought someone back from Death or seen something you shouldn't have…or worse; you might have awakened a creature that could have taken your body as its residence, slowly sucking out your soul until you're nothing but a shell! Since my residence is in your possession at present, I'd hate to see something bad happen to you. Do I make myself clear? If I heat up the mirror like that, pull me out immediately, because I don't set off false alarms anymore."

"Tellulan—you know who that is, right?—was in my presence. I couldn't drop everything to talk to you—"

"I was warning you," Stanzi insisted. "You might be carrying a parasitic spirit inside your soul now, since you were being so careless."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're so superstitious; I went over here so I could talk to you. Do you know anything about gorgonixes?"

"No," Stanzi said flatly. "I was a horrid Defense Against the Dark Arts student, yet I had a strong basis in Manipulations and Transfiguration. Shiftings of any sort are my specialty, not memorizing different brands of demons and how to get rid of them. My husband studied that stuff, but I never saw the appeal. Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock spooked me out, so I quit reading her books."

"You said you had two Conjuror's Degrees," Harry said flatly. "I'm not familiar with that standard of educational degrees, since I live with Muggles."

"Ah," Stanzi said, letting out a heavy sigh. "I lived with my father's parents. My dad was a Muggle, but my mum was a full-blooded Banshee; that explains why I've got such a crow-like voice and can't sing worth a rat's ass. As for the Degrees, it goes like this…it takes one year for a Standard Wizarding Degree, two years for a Conjuror's Degree, three years for a Magician's Degree, four years for an Enchanter's or Enchantress's Degree, six years for a Sorcerer's Degree, and ten-to-fifteen years for a Mage's Degree. The prices dramatically increase with the level of difficulty. I couldn't afford anything higher than a Magician's Degree, so I got my double Conjuror's in two subjects that I liked. I passed my courses at LéAvíans University with an overall grade of 'E,' which wasn't too bad."

The topic then swung to a somewhat related topic. "Alex Furrier, my husband's former roommate from University, got his Enchanter's Degree in Transfiguration, his Conjuror's Degree in Transmogrification, and a Magician's Degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He's more qualified to teach that course than some of the professors you've had in the past, _including_ Mitzi Nezura. However, I'm sure he wouldn't give up his job as an Animagery professor at Lazulien University for the world—"

"He's teaching Animagery at Hogwarts," Harry said flatly. "You're most certainly behind the times; Quirrell jinxed him, so he's been stuck in cat form for five years. Furrier hates me, even though I never give him any trouble or disrupt his class." There was one thing about Animagery that Harry wasn't going to admit; Ron and Neville were doing very well in there, but Harry was barely passing with an 'A minus' and—no matter how hard he tried—he couldn't get the basic shifting spells to work. He'd asked Furrier if he could practice in Turret One before under the professor's supervision; Furrier had simply stuck out his claws, swished his tail furiously, and simply made a hissing noise before arching his back. "It's all because I…" he couldn't bring himself to tell Stanzi that he had destroyed her husband five years earlier. She'd been in there for ten years; would she know about that incident?

"All because you…what?" Stanzi asked, tilting her head to one side in a curious manner. "Did you do something to poor Alex to make him angry with you?" Her bottom lip pouted a bit, and she looked quite inquisitive. "I want to know; what are you hiding from me?"

"You know your husband died, right?" Harry felt even more uncomfortable when he saw the look of shock on Stanzi's pale face, a bit of pink appearing in her cheeks and the tip of her nose. "So, you _didn't _know? Well, it was kind of my fault that he's not the one with this mirror at the moment. He served Voldemort (Stanzi flinched) and tried to strangle me to death. He broke into blisters and died rather quickly, I believe. I don't remember how he died too well; I fainted."

Stanzi's jaw was hanging wide open, but a smile curled up on her lips as she slowly closed her mouth. "You killed him? I tried doing that once or twice, but poison didn't seem to affect him too well…especially snake venom." She shrugged her shoulders and said comically, "Oh well; now I know why my feeble attempts continuously failed."

Harry was now the one who was surprised. "You tried to kill the guy you married? Why?"

"He and I began to disagree about everything by the time our son was two," Stanzi admitted. "We had _nothing_ in common anymore, and he wanted a divorce, as well as custody of my one and only darling, Cecil. I got angry very easily, due to the banshee blood, and I wanted to make sure that I'd never have to give up my baby, not even to the twit I'd had him with." She then let out a very exasperated sigh and continued, "I died in 1987, and he got to spend quite some time with Cecil until early 1990, when Varinia informed me of my boy's death. If I ever get out of here, I will have my retribution, and I shall do so in a way where nobody will be able to cause me any harm in return. Life will go on without Varinia Loxias, yet—with your help, of course—I will prevail!" She looked about and said, "You're in the Aerie. Shouldn't you try to find some place that's much safer to come to than here?"

"I came to the Aerie so I could talk to you without anybody interrupting me," Harry said calmly. "I did this for you." It was clear Stanzi wanted answers about the present. Well, Harry wanted answers about the _past_, so perhaps an exchange could be made. "It wasn't so I could disobey the school rules for the umpteenth time. That's gotten to be quite boring by now." He had so many questions in his mind at the moment, but he had no idea how he was supposed to ask somebody that was already dead some of them. "Was dying a painful process?"

"Yes," Stanzi answered curtly, "and being dead really isn't that much fun, either. I can't cross over like my husband and son; I'm stuck here, and I have no idea how to get out." She turned her back to Harry and coldly said, "We're through talking for now. Get out of the Aerie and leave me in peace."

Harry shut the mirror and placed it in his pocket. He knew that he was now this poor woman's only contact with the outside world, but it was already so obvious that he wasn't necessarily going to get along with Stanzi Talus-Quirrell all that well. '_Such a temper_,' he thought angrily. Perhaps in time Stanzi would settle down and stop making such a big deal about everything. But for now, she was about to drive Harry on the verge of insanity.

"What all did you see while you were there?" asked Ron, sitting on the edge of the sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room. "And why didn't you tell either Hermione or me that you were going into the Labyrinth by yourself? You're getting me curious." He looked quite interested in what Harry was trying to tell him until he popped a pink Mood Drop into his mouth. "Honestly, Harry; I don't know how I could have lived without Celia up until now. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Harry gave Ron a rather dirty look. "Do you always have to bring up Celia in a conversation like that? It really bothers me; haven't you realized I don't want to hear you ramble on and on about your girlfriend? It wasn't too overly annoying hearing you praise her from a distance, but now it's just '_Celia this_' and '_Celia that_.' I was trying to tell you something important, and then you have to rub pretty, perfect Celia in my face again!"

"Just because _you_ can't get a girlfriend doesn't mean you have to take it out on Celia and me," Ron snapped, the tips of his ears turning red. "You know what I think? I bet you're jealous that I finally have something you want but don't have!"

Harry really wasn't in the mood for this, and his anger was rising. Who did Ron think he was, talking back to him like that? Wasn't he supposed to be Harry's best friend? "I don't have time for this," he grumbled. "Forget it; I'll just tell Hermione. Go have fun with your precious _Celia_, for all I care. I don't give a damn anymore about you two." Ron stomped out, quite angry and hurt at the same time, but Harry honestly couldn't care less.

Atticus wheeled in, and just gave Harry a very grim look. "My gramps was murdered not too long ago, slaughtered like a pig. The Death Eaters were after him for a long time. I fear for your life, now, since you are their prime target. Also, I fear for Skylarke; they want his head as well, but for a completely different reason. Cassandra once told me that she was needed for some sort of ritual, and so were the two of us. Do you know anything about that?"

"You and Cassandra aren't needed anymore," Harry said. "I spied on the Death Eater Raid the night your grandfather died. They killed him in your stead, and the item they needed from Cassandra was vampire's elixir. They got that from Darius when one of them tried to Slay him."

"The Slayers Renaissance affects even here," Atticus muttered, and clenched his fists. "I feel sorry for anybody that's a vampire, werewolf, lamia, or other type of person Slayers target. Even at Hogwarts, everybody seems to be showing an interest in it." He pulled out a thin book called Slayers: Guardians of the Light. "It looked like it would be quite appealing, so I checked it out." Atticus smiled weakly and added, "I don't really have anything against Professor Ahsimal or Cassandra, but I've never been a vampire fan. They're generally vicious monsters with no respect for human beings. We're just food for them, in their eyes. Well, I'll see you in the morning. I've got places I need to go." With those parting words, Atticus wheeled out of Harry's sight.

Harry looked around and noticed that now the Common Room was almost empty. Lavender, Parvati, Seamus, and a couple of boys Harry didn't know were the only people left in there, and they were engaged in watching Seamus and a Hispanic boy with his hair in cornrows play a game of chess. The Hispanic boy was losing miserably, and Seamus wasn't even that good of a chess player. "Carlos, I do believe you're in check _again_," Seamus said in a voice that suggested he was gloating.

"You sure?" said Carlos as he moved his King one other space. "NO! I can't believe it; there's not a single way I can avoid Checkmate if I move him!" His face was buried in his hands.

"There's still one move left you could have made," said Seamus. "_But_, you already grabbed your King, so I believe this is Checkmate. Thanks for playing; are there any other challengers?"

"Go play Ron tomorrow," Parvati snapped at Seamus. "He'll humble you down; if anyone can play Wizard's Chess, it's either Ron Weasley or that beautiful Josh Goldman guy from Hufflepuff." Lavender and Parvati both giggled, and then Parvati made some cooing noises. "Aw, Josh is absolutely gorgeous! I really, really want him to be my boyfriend—"

"Dream on, Parvati," Lavender hissed. "He spoke to me the other day in the hall while we were heading for Potions. I dropped my books and he bent down to help me pick them up. When we got them all sorted out, he looked at me with those sexy eyes of his and told me I need to be more careful. Honestly, I love his voice, too. I bet he could protect me from anything!"

"Bullshit," blurted Harry. "I bet Josh is the type that fondles himself at night. Have either one of you noticed that he's been single ever since school began?" When he saw the glitter in the eyes of the two girls, Harry groaned in agony. "Oh no, I've said the wrong thing; did I get your hopes up? Don't get any ideas; I'm quite sure he's not going to ask you out any time soon."

"Why are you being so mean? We weren't talking to _you_, Harry!" growled Lavender. Her face was turning red and Parvati was already was pink in the cheeks. Seamus and Carlos were laughing. "Both of you; _shut up!_ That wasn't funny!" Carlos chuckled before he ran off with Seamus and his friend Harry didn't know.

Two days later, on November 11, classes were back up because it was Monday. Harry was quite unhappy with having Astrology for his first class. While he had been in the Labyrinth, he had seen something quite shocking, and he no longer would trust that particular professor. Right after class, he planned to tell Snitchgrass that he wanted to be switched over to another Hawkbane as soon as possible. He didn't care if he angered or upset her anymore; he just wanted to be rid of her, because it was always possible that Snitchgrass had not broken her promise to Voldemort. After her peculiar behavior at the last Hawkbane meeting, Harry felt that possibility was the truth. It was almost as if she was putting on an act. Turret Twelve was open, but Snitchgrass wasn't in there. All the students were lying on the plush white carpet, their textbooks out. Pieces of parchment were snapped onto the clipboards, and everybody had a neck pillow to add extra comfort.

Sunrise had happened only one hour earlier, but the stars were in plain view from the enchanted windows of the glass room. Harry tried to find Leo, his Zodiac sign, but finding constellations was something he wasn't all that good at. The angel lamp on Snitchgrass's white desk was glowing dimly, and it was apparent the light bulb was going to die out in a couple of hours, at the longest. The young man and the girl in the portrait were slow dancing, and Harry decided to take a closer look at it. It was just as he suspected; the young man was Voldemort and the girl was most certainly Snitchgrass. The windchimes that had been in the room were gone, but Snitchgrass had placed enchanted icicles on the edges of each window. The entire classroom was freezing, and Harry could see Isis trying to huddle up closer to a few of her friends. One of the neck pillows was black with flames printed on it, and nobody was using it. Harry knew that Snitchgrass had put spells on each neck pillow to suit the student it belonged to, and he also knew that was Cassandra's. The class didn't feel complete without that haunting figure in the back.

"At last, ve begin," Snitchgrass hissed as she trudged through the door. "You all know zat you've got Clairvoyancy after zis class, right? Here," she said as she handed each student a copy of the day's schedule, "zere's a copy vor everyone. Dumbledore insists zat nobody be left out." As she handed Malfoy his copy, she said, "Next Saturday, it's just going to be you and me at za meeting. 'Arry obviously doesn't zink much of my vork I do vor 'im, so he'll be moved o'er to Darius." She glared at Harry and said in a venomously quiet voice, "You vere going to inform me of zat later today. However, za stars 'ave informed me ahead o' time, zo zere's no need vor you to tell me."

Harry was not in a good mood for Astrology. Snitchgrass droned on-and-on about "za importance of za majestic Zodiac signs" as she always did for half the classtime, and then shouted, "Ve are going into vat I assigned you to do last time ve vere all in 'ere. Your astrological star might not be in your Zodiac sign, but it vill be much more accurate zan a constellation you share vith so many others. Zere are far more stars zan vitches and vizards. If you looked over za notes ve took at our last lesson, you vill know how to do zis. If you missed zat day, zen it'll be your fault zat you're getting a failing grade."

"You're so mean to us, Professor Snitchgrass!" Naomi wailed from a corner. Her neck pillow was yellow with black polka-dots and smelled like lemongrass. "Why do you hate us?"

"I don't hate you," Snitchgrass said, laughing. Actually, to Harry, it sounded much more like a cackle. "I jus' don't tolerate slackers in my class like I used to. Hawkbane students should give me zere utmost attention vile zey are in 'ere." She tapped her angel lamp with her wand, and the light bulb died out. "Gaze in silence, and take notes on your observations. I vill expect you to 'ave found your star by za end of class."

Ron and Celia were laying side-by-side and were pointing at obvious stars. Hermione was scooted next to Rhianna and Naomi, looking occasionally at her clipboard and scribbling something down. Malfoy and Rick were whispering and copying the other's notes. Harry looked to his left and right to see that he was next to Marcus. He waved to say 'hello' without talking, but Marcus wasn't paying attention to that; his eyes were focused on the starry sky quite attentively. "Castor," Marcus said in a trancelike voice. "My star is Castor."

"Pollux is my star guide," announced Hermione. "How interesting, Marcus; you and I have the Twin stars...and neither one of us are a Gemini." She then let out a heavy breath as she began to pack up and said, "Harry, what's your star?"

"I have no idea," admitted Harry. "I didn't listen to Snitchgrass when she was lecturing the other day. Can you help me out?"

"Sure I can," Hermione said quietly so Snitchgrass couldn't hear her over the sitar and oud music the professor was listening to via a Walkman. She looked over her notes and then gazed up at the sky. "Okay, Harry, your star is…" she paused, and then a sad-looking smile appeared on her face. "Your guide star is _Sirius_."

When he heard Hermione say that, Harry couldn't help but smile as well. That was a coincidence, but it was the kind of coincidence that made him feel better somehow. "Well, _that_ will be easy to remember, now won't it?" Harry could think of the star as the Sirius he knew and missed, and could think of this as his godfather's legacy, somehow; to guide him through the celestial realm. "I overheard you and Marcus saying your stars are Castor and Pollux—"

Harry looked behind to see that Malfoy was laughing quite loudly. Snitchgrass grumbled from her desk, but did nothing else. "What struck _you_ all of a sudden, Malfoy?"

"My star's name," Malfoy said between guffaws, "is Bellatrix."

"My star is Deneb," Rhianna said, shrugging her shoulders. "Ron, what's yours?"

"Vega," said Ron. He gave Harry a dirty look to indicate he was still angry.

"Mine's Polaris," added Celia, oblivious that she was the source of that conflict. She turned around and opened her mismatched eyes as far as she could. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"I'm _trying_ to figure out which star is Cassandra's guide," Hermione said, looking at her charts. "I thought I'd do this for her since she isn't here to do so herself. Okay, her star is _Aldebaran_." She smiled and said, "Harry, your star will greatly outlast Cassandra's. Sirius is a blue star and Aldebaran is a red star, which means it's much closer to its death than yours."

Harry just sighed; his guide star was making him a bit glum. He missed his godfather, and still couldn't help but blame himself for Sirius's death. "I bet the opposite's true," he muttered. "Sirius is dead already, and I heard that Aldebaran Black is lingering as a cripple as St. Mungo's."

"Sirius _Black_ may be gone forever, perhaps," Marcus said in a grim voice, "but Sirius _the star_ will outlast you. It's even going to outlive our _Sol invictus_…our own Sun." He then gazed further, trying to figure out what Castor could help him with in the future. "This is going to prove to be quite interesting."

"Ve vill do a small unit on Pyramidology vor our next class ve have together. Study it; it zin Chapter 53," Snitchgrass said loudly from her desk. "It vill tie in vith your Divination studies quite vell. Now, pack your stuff up; za bell vill ring any minute now." She was right; two minutes after she announced it, the bell rang to save Harry and the other poor souls that were stuck in there.

Clairvoyancy was actually better than Astrology, even though most of the material covered was confusing. The only reason Harry could appreciate such a tedious subject was because Lewn was quite seductive. She was wearing a tight pink dress that showed off her ample cleavage and flat stomach. She was also wearing a pair of platform sandals to show off her pedicure. "Hello, everybody; I want to welcomeyou_ back_ to Clairvoyancy. I've really missed each and every one of you, honest. We've studied the Cards for the last few lessons, so I'll go around the room and will pick a representative for each House to do a Reading on me. If they do well, everyone in their House will be quite happy, because they'll get the same grade. If they _don't_ do well, everyone in their House will _not_ be all that happy; they'll _still_ get the same grade. Are there any questions before we begin?"

"Aren't card readings more closely related to _Divination_ rather than _Clairvoyancy_, Professor Lewn?" asked Hermione. "I'd think it would be classified as Divination."

"Normally, you'd be right," Lewn said, playing with a diamond ring on her left pinky-finger. "However, I, not Sibyll, am currently in charge of this type of education. We're still waiting for Tarot to be a class all on its own. Our last Tarot professor got dragged off to Azkaban back in the late 1970s; her name was Cynthia Lynches, and she looked like she was anorexic. She had no figure, and she looked like a human skeleton. Honestly, I think she started starving herself so she could look as good as I do, but got a bit carried away."

"Why was she arrested?" asked Rick, trying his best to conceal his mole so Lewn wouldn't stare at it and make a snide, rude remark to demoralize him further.

"Murder," said Lewn, smiling from ear-to-ear on her pretty face. "Cynthia was taken to Azkaban for the responsibility of the death of Sebastian Argentum, one of the best Potions Masters Hogwarts had employed for the twentieth century. Everybody blamed a gorgonix, until Cynthia was found with the murder weapon clutched in her hands, looming over the mangled body." She let out a heavy sigh and began to flutter her eyes. "Ah, those were the days where any person could have adventure any day of the week. Now, it's just for," she glared at Harry, "_celebrities_."

Harry had been in a bad mood for Advanced Astrology, but now Lewn was making it worse by singling him out. "Why didn't you do that to Atticus?" he muttered under his breath. "He's just as famous as I am; I bet you just wanted to embarrass me in front of the class."

Lewn passed out four whole sets of Tarot cards and handed them to Josh, Celia, Malfoy, and Ron. "Whenever one of you is ready to begin, let me know." Malfoy quickly raised his hand, and Lewn scooted over closer to him, her perfect body showing a generous portion of her superior cleavage to the captive audience she was holding. "Let's begin by letting me touch the cards." She stretched out her short, skinny fingers and stroked the deck after Malfoy shuffled it.

"Okay, pick your cards, Professor," said Malfoy flatly. Lewn giggled as she pulled out the proper number of cards and left them face-down on the table. "To make this interesting, I'll do something that my mum taught me how to do a few summers ago. Is that okay? It'll make the reading a lot more accurate."

"Sure," Lewn said through a forced smile. She didn't look too delighted or thrilled.

"_Anuris Tarot Niet_," Malfoy muttered as he waved his wand over the cards. "_Rantora Niet_," he grumbled, shifting the cards into a flat pyramid formation. He flipped the first card over and said, "It's Death," before continuing. He flipped all the other cards over and each time, it was the card of Death. "Well, it's obvious that Death is in your nearby future, Professor Lewn."

Lewn obviously didn't want to hear this. "What a bunch of hokum and codswallop," she said, hesitantly laughing as she took the other three decks from Ron and Celia. "Josh, I'll let you be the last one to go." Josh got the same results (probably because he used the same incantation), only all his cards were the Devil. "THAT DOES IT!" Lewn screamed. "I'm just going to go ahead and give everyone a 'D' for today's work!" Everyone found this to be quite unfair, and so they leered at Josh and Malfoy, who actually hadn't screwed up the Readings. Harry could see the look of fear on his professor's face, and knew that she believed in the predictions. Lewn was quite angry that they didn't suit her fancy this time.

Harry looked down at his schedule to see that he had Care of Magical Creatures next. He couldn't help but smile; Hagrid was his friend, unlike the vast majority of the Hawkbanes. This would be a great break from having his teachers annoy him, and he could check up on Godric. Also, he could meet up with Blaise and his other friends that weren't in the Hawkbane program. The bell rang and Lewn dismissed the class rather quickly, as if she would contract the Bubonic Plague if she even touched _one_ student. "Have a nice day," she said sarcastically.

Harry was the first to make it to Care of Magical Creatures. He looked on the board to see what they would be studying for this lesson. A smile curled up on his face when he read that it would be griffins, and that Hagrid would be using Godric as his assistant for the class. "Alrigh' everybody," Hagrid said as he came in with Harry's little griffin. "Yer noticed I ain' teaching you abou' Blast-Ended Skrewts or somethin' like that. Instead, for the next few lessons, we'll be coverin' griffins. This little fellow here's name is Godric, like after Godric Gryffindor. Ain' he cute? He's ready to begin when everyone else is." Godric made a cooing sound, and swished his tail a bit. He looked quite pleased with himself to have such an audience.

"Do griffins bite?" Malfoy asked. Crabbe, Goyle, and the other Slytherins began to laugh. Malfoy had been bitten by Buckbeak when he'd been a Third Year, only because he'd made the hippogriff quite mad and provoked it.

"Nah," Hagrid said merrily. "Well, at least Godric ain' bitten anyone yet."

"If it bites anybody," Ron said, laughing. "I bet it _will_ be Malfoy." Now all the Gryffindors were laughing, and the Slytherins didn't look so thrilled…save Blaise, who was laughing along with everyone else. The Slytherins glared at him, and someone accused him of being a traitor to his House. At the mentioning of _that_, Blaise momentarily shut his mouth. "Hagrid, I didn't know you were taking care of a baby griffin. Is he yours?"

"No," Hagrid admitted. "Godric belongs ter Harry. He got this cute little guy from Nezura. Well, let's begin fer today. Can anyone tell me anything abou' griffins?"

"Their eggs are pale blue with silvery veins, and there's not a single creature more loyal than a griffin. They're the best at guarding an appointed treasure, as well. Nowhere could you find a better guardian," said Hermione. "Remember? Ron, Harry, and I picked the griffin for our Magic Creature Study Essay you assigned us."

"Oh," Hagrid said, looking just a bit embarrassed, "yeah, I remember now." Godric, now about the size of a full-grown Irish wolfhound, was prancing around the room arrogantly, swishing his tail and knocking little trinkets off the shelves in the process. "Aw, stop it, Godric. Yer goin' to ruin somethin' a' this rate." Hagrid crossed his fingers and said simply, "Jus' don' let it be somethin' 'spensive, I beg you."

"He's going to trample the classroom," said Neville quite nervously. "Is he angry?"

"Nope," Hagrid said, beaming. "Godric jus' wants someone to play a game, that's all. 'Ow abou' I give extra credit ter the people that'll play chase with 'im?" Harry got the assumption that his griffin really liked chase, by the rambling Hagrid began to do. Ron didn't look all that interested because he was writing a note. When Harry looked closer, he noticed it was a love note to _Celia_. "Er…is anyone goin' to play with Godric?"

"I'd like to," said Blaise suddenly. "Hagrid, could I feed him a piece of my sandwich? That wouldn't hurt his stomach, would it?" When Hagrid told him it was okay, Blaise beamed as he tossed the entire sandwich he had in his bag to Godric, who gobbled it down with relish. "There you are, little guy. I hope you like meat paste more than I do." When Godric began to nuzzle up against Blaise and make cooing noises, Blaise laughed a bit. "Well, now I guess we're _both_ happy. You got to eat something you like, and I didn't have to eat something I detest. That's fair enough."

"Hey there, Godric," Harry said, petting the growing griffin. "Would you like to play a game of chase with Blaise and me?" Godric flapped his wings a bit and swished his tail about. Harry saw Hagrid's cleaning broom in the corner, and suddenly a thought struck him. "Hagrid, can griffins fly with their wings?"

"Yeah, they can," answered Hagrid. "Why'd yer be wantin' to know, Harry?"

"I've got an idea," Harry said, a large smile on his face. "How about we give Godric a little lesson in Quidditch?"

Surprisingly, it didn't take Godric the griffin all that long to catch on to the rules of the game. He made a rather good Keeper (better than Ron, in Harry's opinion) and not once could Blaise, Marcus, and Harry (who were playing Chasers) get the Quaffle past Harry's new pet. After Malfoy decided it would be fun to add Bludgers and Beaters to the game, the bell rang to announce Care of Magical Creatures was dismissed. "Aw…damn!"

Harry caught up with Hermione and Ron in the hall. "Hi, Hermione," he said, giving Ron a menacing glare. Ron gave him one back. "I take it you already read the schedule for today and know where we're going next." He saw Blaise walking by himself down the hall, but it seemed as if the Slytherin wasn't too bothered about it today. "Blaise, would you like to walk with us?"

"It's okay," said Blaise. "I'm trying to wait up for Rhianna. I need to talk to her about something we've been planning for three days now. You know about Professor Ebonyste's Double Secret Special Friend Treatment, right?" Harry and Hermione groaned in unison; neither one of them had enjoyed that alternative detention, but they both had to admit that the memory would stick with them for a very long time. The pranks _were_ fun, but that wasn't the problem; the thing that had made Double Secret Special Friend Treatment a living Hell was the fact that it was Ebonyste's idea. "Obviously, you've done something to contribute before. Well, Rhianna and I signed up for it voluntarily to get a little extra credit for Foreign Magic, and—_there_ you are, Rhianna!" Blaise sniggered a little when he saw the smug look on his friend's face. "Were you victorious?" Rhianna nodded vigorously, and held up her wand. She was laughing very loudly.

"What did you do?" asked Harry, curious as to what had just happened between Blaise and Rhianna. Ron and Hermione just stared at the two Slytherins; Ron probably didn't know what Double Secret Special Friend Treatment was, and Hermione was probably wanting to know what Rhianna had just done momentarily.

Before Rhianna could answer, the Alchemy classroom door slammed wide open and Loxias thundered down the hall, clutching at her face in agony. As soon as Harry got a glimpse of her as she whizzed by as quickly as humanly possible, he understood why Rhianna was laughing. Loxias had grown a long, mousy brown beard. Harry's jaw dropped, and he howled with delight at seeing the unhappy professor run off in tears. "You're a genius," he said to Rhianna. However, Rhianna probably didn't hear him; she was too occupied by (like Ron, Hermione, and Blaise) giggling.

"Slytherin has trained us well," Blaise said in a mock-sentimental voice, a hand saluted regally at his thin chest. "Home sweet Home, eh, Rhianna?" Rhianna had fallen to the ground, clutching her sides, guffawing as loud as a person could naturally get. "She's taking this well," stated Blaise. "Wait until we do something to McGonagall—"

"Please don't do anything mean to Professor McGonagall, Blaise!" pleaded Hermione.

"I wasn't going to be cruel to her," Blaise said, pushing a stray strand of chestnut hair out of his face. "All I was planning on doing was making her wardrobe a bit louder, that's all." He held up his wand and got a large, comical grin on his tan face. "Let's just say she's gone neon." When McGonagall passed by the hallway, Harry could see it for himself; his Transfigurations teacher was wearing electric green robes with highlighter yellow plaid underlining. However, she didn't look upset like Loxias; instead, she seemed to have a spring in her step. "See? I think she liked it."

"It's time for us to head off to Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Ron coldly. "Hermione, how about you and I go ahead? It's quite obvious that Harry wants to talk to Rhianna and Blaise more than he does us."

Hermione looked at the glares Ron and Harry were giving each other and let out an exasperated sigh. "What's gotten in to you two?"

"Er…maybe you and I should go, Blaise," Rhianna suggested, tugging at her friend. "It's obvious something's wrong, and we're not helping." Blaise followed her advice and walked off toward what appeared to be the route to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room in Turret Eight.

Harry couldn't see where they ended up, because it was out of his range of sight. Hermione pushed her two friends toward the proper classroom, and opened the door for them. "Just wait until class is over," she grumbled. "I want to know why you two aren't on speaking terms anymore. It always bothers me when you both get into some petty argument--"

"Stay out of it," snapped Ron. "Harry brought up Celia and started just…"

Harry didn't stick around to hear the rest of what Ron was saying. He took his seat up at the front, right where Nezura had placed him, and pulled out How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming. Once he got the book out, he opened it up to the chapter about demon possession. After everyone was ready for the substitute professor to come in, Harry could hear Darius arguing with somebody right outside the classroom door. "I may be in Bloodlust right now, but I am _not_ going to bite a student unless provoked! You lie!"

"I lie…and you don't?" Harry heard Snape's voice in response. "Ha! That'll be the day when pigs fly and Hell freezes over, Darius. I'm just going to say it like it is; there are experienced First-Class Slayers at this school, and I fear for your safety. If you nip someone like you did Cassandra thirteen years ago, then you know Adonis, Claire, and Cain will be all over you with crucifixes, garlic, and wooden stakes. If I were you, I'd lock myself up in the top of the Necromancy tower until Bloodlust is over—"

"You just don't understand the severity of Bloodlust, now do you, Severus? It doesn't go away until I get human blood. If I lock myself up until it goes away, I'd never be coming out of my room and I'd starve to death," Darius whined. "I think I'll just get a blood bag from Poppy. Good luck with the substitute job today."

"Damn!" Harry muttered. It was now perfectly clear that Snape was going to sub for Nezura until a permanent replacement could be found. Harry went ahead and made the assumption that Snape was going to fancy himself as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

At that moment, Snape opened the door quietly and tried to sit down. The pinstripe office chair and the desk were far too small for Snape; he looked like a giant sitting there in Nezura's left-behind furniture. "Why didn't she take her midget furniture to Canada along with the rest of her crap?" he grumbled as he tried to get out of the chair. He couldn't do so; it seemed as if the Potions teacher was stuck in that little chair. "Somebody help me get out." The class remained silent and in their seats. None of the Gryffindors wanted to get Snape out of the chair, and it was very clear that the Slytherins didn't want him out any time soon either.

Everyone (but Snape) found this to be incredibly funny and began laughing at once. Snape, however, looked quite embarrassed...and angry. He continued to pry his bottom out of Nezura's tiny chair. "I bet the only people in this school that could fit in this thing with extra space would be the younger Acheron girl, Furrier, Flitwick, and Beastie." Snape was trying his hardest to get out, but it just wasn't working all that well. "Maybe we should just begin the lesson." Seamus and Lavender looked a bit nervous; Harry noticed they'd forgotten to bring their books. "Finnigan, Brown, where are your copies of How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming? Don't tell me you were stupid enough to leave them in your last class!"

"Okay," Seamus said flatly, "we won't tell you." A lot of the class found that funny.

Snape, however, didn't find it humorous at all. "Ten points from Gryffindor for a sharp tongue, Finnigan. I'll take an additional twenty-five off since you and Brown _both_ forgot to bring your books to class."

"Professor Nezura didn't get on to us for forgetting it," Lavender pointed out. "She keeps extra copies in her bookshelf, just in case somebody forgets. She'd never take points away."

"Do you see Mitzi's bookshelf?" Snape demanded. "For that matter, do you see _Mitzi _anywhere in this room?" When Lavender shook her head to indicate she didn't, Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, out of all my classes, it's the Sixth Year Gryffindors that are the worst. Any dunderhead that forgot to bring their book to class will be here for detention."

"You're only here temporarily, right?" inquired Malfoy, raising his hand. Snape nodded solemnly, still trying to squirm his way out of the pinstripe chair. "Who's going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"The Headmaster hasn't started looking yet," Snape said flatly. "I'm hoping he'll find a new Potions teacher and let me get this job. I've been wanting it for years, and I know I'd do a much better job than any numbskull that comes out of Lazulien or LéAvíans, or wherever-the-hell else they find newbies from." He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "How on Earth they ran across your Alchemy teacher, I'll never know." Harry nodded his head in agreement, but he felt that sentence could be applied to Snape as well. "Let's see what the last thing Mitzi covered with you was." He pulled out a piece of parchment that had a little gray mouse wearing a pinstripe fedora scribbled on the bottom. "Ah…this is interesting. You were about to cover a small unit on demon possession, am I correct?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," the class said dully in unison; nobody was happy about this. With Nezura, it would have been an interesting topic (Harry had been looking forward to this lesson ever since he'd first heard Nezura mention it), but Snape was going to ruin everything.

"The first type you covered was the gorgonix," Snape droned on-and-on about gorgonixes, until he realized that Nezura had already made sure the class knew what they were and what they were capable of doing. "So now, I guess we may move on to hellions. This type of demon can take on any shape it chooses, and takes upon itself the strength the form would, in turn, have."

"Are you going to put notes up on the board?" asked Neville. Snape looked as if Neville had just asked him to jump off a ten-story building in red lingerie; his mouth was open, and his nostrils were flared. Without saying the words exactly, everyone meant that to be an obvious 'no.' Neville took a deep breath and said, "Excuse me, sir, but Professor Nezura didn't teach us like that."

Seamus raised his hand. "What is it, Finnigan?" asked Snape, still with his bottom stuck.

"Neville's right! That's _not_ how Professor Nezura taught us!" Seamus complained.

"Well, how _did_ Nezura teach?" Snape snarled angrily from the little chair.

"_Better_!" argued Ron.

"Do I look like a blonde midget to you? I am NOT Mitzi Nezura!" Snape bellowed.

"We noticed," that group of Gryffindors said angrily.

Snape put a spell on the blackboard, and a few words appeared: ALL GRYFFINDORS WILL HAVE DETENTION. At that, Parvati raised her hand. "What is it, Patil? Are you going to berate my way of teaching or do you have a question of more reasonable content?"

"Which classroom do we report to for the detention? You're in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room right now, but you're still the Potions teacher. I'm just a bit unclear about where I'm supposed to go." Lavender nodded in agreement, but said nothing in response. It was a good question to ask; it wouldn't make Snape any angrier than he already was.

"Report to _my_ classroom," Snape said quite glumly. "Everyone that spoke up will be cleaning up the cauldrons for two hours. I'm sure that Malfoy would like to tell me who was in the crowd that dared to say that pipsqueak's a better teacher than me."

"Weasley, Finnigan, Thomas, Patil, Brown, Longbottom," Malfoy chirped. "I heard them." Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Dean, Seamus, and Ron all glared at Malfoy. "What? A good deed shouldn't go unpunished, you know. I couldn't let you get away with angering our dear Professor." Blaise and Rhianna were silent and stone-faced, but the other Slytherins were sniggering.

"Anyway," Snape began. "We need to head back to the topic of hellions. They are powerful creatures with horrible powers. Like gorgonixes, they can possess a person and feed. Unlike gorgonixes, they do not feed off of anger, fear, and intense emotions; hellions feed off of literally a person's soul until nothing is left but the body. In a sense, it's the Dementor's Kiss put into slow motion. You haven't got a prayer of a chance once it takes you, unless you find a skilled Exorcist to get it out of you." Finally, Snape managed to break free of the grasp Nezura's chair had on his abdominal area. "Damn chair," he muttered angrily as he tossed it around the room.

"Are we going to get to see what a hellion looks like in class?" asked Hermione. "Professor Nezura would have shown us—"

"Do you think I really _care_ what Nezura did in here, Granger?" Snape boomed, looming over Hermione like a carrion bird over a dead animal. Hermione looked like she was about to cry. "That little tramp got this job on such a short notice. Was it fair for her to get it while I've tried my best to get it every year?" Hermione didn't answer, she bit her bottom lip and her face was beginning to turn red. "Go on, answer me. Why is it that you Gryffindors praise Nezura every chance you get? What was so different about her from your other teachers?"

"She wasn't evil," Harry pointed out. "She reminded me of Professor Lupin." Suddenly, Harry realized he'd said two words that made Snape even more infuriated than he was a moment ago. The irate Potions Master had gone scarlet in the face, his nostrils were flaring in and out very quickly, and his knuckles had gone white. Hermione looked relieved to be rid of Snape's shadow, but wasn't too happy to see him heading over toward Harry.

"Detention for the rest of the week, Potter," Snape snarled, and began his lesson even further. Instead of sitting back down in the little armchair, Snape pulled out an oversized pinstripe beanbag chair Nezura had also left behind. "There's no way I can get my ass stuck in this thing," he muttered angrily as he fell into it.

"I can't believe he did that to you, Harry," said Hermione. "All you did was mention Professor Lupin and he started hovering all over you." She looked on her schedule and said, "Oh no; we've got a new teacher for Manipulations. I just hope he or she is nothing like Snape—"

"Mortius," Harry whispered to Hermione. "Mortius is going around as a guy named Jules Pyrites, and I hope you believe me."

"Why _wouldn't_ I believe you?" Hermione countered, still a bit upset from Defense Against the Dark Arts. "You're one of my two best friends, Harry; I'd like to think you wouldn't lie to me. I believe what you say is true, but wasn't he masquerading as Snape?"

"Not after Darius and Skylarke found out about it," answered Harry as he walked up one of the moving staircases with Hermione. "The real Snape probably would have killed him, had he been armed with his wand. I could see the hatred between those two; it was quite powerful."

"Why aren't you and Ron talking?" inquired Hermione. "I can tell something's wrong, but he wouldn't talk to me at all during Astrology, Clairvoyancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. We've still got Manipulations and Transfigurations classes, and all Ron wants to do, it seems, is write a letter of some kind." She took a deep breath, and her cheeks turned a bit pink. "I didn't read it—because it wasn't any of my business to begin with—but I think you might have a point, Harry. He wants to spend a lot of time with Celia."

"He's abandoning us for a Seventh Year we'd never heard of until this year," Harry grumbled angrily. "Sometimes I wonder what he sees in that older girlfriend of his."

"Would you be all that surprised to learn that he said the same thing to me about you and Cho last year?" pondered Hermione. "After all, Cho Chang and Celia Wells are both Seventh Year Ravenclaws." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I hope you and Ron get over it soon; I think your squabbles can be sort of silly at times, but I can see why both of you got angry. You're a bit angry that Ron wants to spend most of his time with Celia, and you probably hurt Ron's feelings if you insulted Celia. It's odd; I thought that Celia and you were friends—"

"Only to an extent," Harry answered sharply. "I was her friend until she stole Ron away from us." He had his fists clenched and groaned. "She's turning him against us."

"Did you and Ron feel the same way when I started dating Viktor?" asked Hermione. "I don't mind if you got a bit angry, but I'd just like to know."

"_I_ didn't get mad, but you saw how Ron reacted," Harry bitterly responded. "He _did_ get used to it after a while. It just took him a little time."

"Maybe you'll get used to Celia after a while," Hermione said hopefully. "Well, we're approaching Turret Eleven. Let's go ahead and pull out our Manipulations books." Rushed footsteps could be heard coming up the staircase. A gasping of air soon followed, and there were Ron and Celia. "I'm thrilled to see you and Celia caught up with Harry and me, Ron. Celia, how are your classes going?"

"Boring," Celia admitted. "I hate everything but Animagery and Foreign Magic right now. I love Furrier half-to-death, and Ebonyste is just such a sweetie to us! I went up to give him a hug after class. Poor chap; I could tell he needed one. I don't think he's gotten any sleep since Nezura left. He looks awful, and he cries each time he sees her picture." She let out a sympathetic sigh. "I think he really liked her."

"I wouldn't know about that," Ron pointed out. "Each time I saw Ebonyste and Nezura talking, they were screaming as loudly as they could at each other. The impression I got from their relationship was of the I-hate-you genre. Hermione, are you going to be okay from Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"I'll be fine," Hermione admitted, turning a bit pinker in the cheeks. "I'm better already. It's just that Snape loves to make Gryffindors miserable; it's a basic rule that holds true at Hogwarts and everywhere else he wanders off to. Harry and I were talking about that a moment ago before you and Celia showed up, actually."

"_Really_," Ron said sarcastically. "I thought Harry was talking trash about Celia and me behind my back. I wouldn't put it past him to do something like that."

"So spiteful," said a velvety voice cutting into the conversation. "The bell rang twenty seconds ago, ladies and gentlemen. I want to see your butts in their proper seats before the tardy bell rings. I know you understand perfectly well what I just said, so don't lie to me and tell me you can't comprehend. Let's put those words I uttered into action, shall we? Get a move on!" Pyrites pushed Ron, Harry, Celia, and Hermione through the door with his white-gloved hands. "If you're not sitting down in your desk by the time the next bell rings, you'll regret it."

Harry looked at the classroom in agony; the Manipulations room had looked welcoming and casual with Wolfe Leir as the teacher. When it had belonged to Loxias, it had looked exotic and a bit classy. Enchanted maps were up on the walls, a globe was on the desk (which was covered by a map of Paris) next to a clove of garlic. Electric lights had been added, so candles were no longer a necessity. There was no charm to the Manipulations room anymore, especially because Harry knew the truth about Professor Jules Pyrites already. He wanted out of here as soon as possible.

He finally managed to find his assigned desk. Reluctantly, he took his seat between Celia and Naomi. In front of him was Ron, and Atticus was right behind him. The other people within reach were Malfoy, Josh, Hermione, and Rick. However, he was only one desk/seat behind the front row, so he couldn't get away with passing notes or dozing off, as he intended to do. Manipulations had been Harry's easiest class, until Loxias had fussed about backing-up resources on essays, and then his grades went down from an 'E' to a 'D.' The chances of pulling the grade up were pretty slim, seeing as the teacher was Julius Cantarus in disguise.

After the tardy bell rang, and Isis got a detention for being late, Pyrites made a very complicated diagram on the board. Only Hermione seemed to understand what it meant with ease. Marcus, probably the second-smartest student in the Hawkbane program, took nearly five minutes to understand what it meant. "Compared to the Manipulations course I took at Lazulien, this is nothing more than remedial garbage," Pyrites sneered to the class. "I'd be teaching First Years this stuff if Hogwarts wasn't so far behind. I have a theory; Leir and Loxias only showed you a couple of fancy magic tricks that barely met the requirements for true Manipulations. I bet an eleven-year-old could do those spells just as easily as any of you could. Up until now, you've only gotten a taste of the baby level. I will put you at the experience level you're _supposed_ to be on. We'll work at a fast pace and won't stop for anyone unless the whole class doesn't understand a word of what I'm saying." He let out a chuckle and brushed a bit of dust off his baby blue robes. "I most certainly hope that the diagram didn't confuse any of you. How about I call on somebody to tell me what they learned from what I just put up on the board?" Hermione and Marcus had their hands raised, but Harry could easily tell that Marcus was quite unsure about his answer. "How about you, Miss…? I'm terribly sorry, Miss; I don't know your name yet."

"I'm Hermione Granger," said Hermione politely. "From what you put on the board, I have learned that there are certain cases where people can change certain characteristics of their own body to suit their preferences. If done correctly, skin type, hair color, facial features, body build, and even gender can be shifted. That diagram was a bit _too_ easy, if you ask me." Ron gave Hermione an unhappy glare for the last comment, and Harry couldn't help but scowl as well. Hermione was becoming quite arrogant with her academic superiority, and it was beginning (only _just_ beginning) to bother Harry. Hermione turned around and smiled. "Marcus, you understood it too, right?" Marcus's face had gone quite beet red, and he quickly covered it up with his textbook in embarrassment. Harry got the notion that Marcus's assumptions had been incorrect.

"Well, Miss Granger; you were correct," Pyrites said in a rather sweet-sounding voice. "Five points to Gryffindor for knowledge. It's strange; I'd have assumed a Ravenclaw would have known the answer to that, but you know what we say about assuming. It makes an ass out of both you and me. I know from now on that if I want a correct, and detailed, answer to a question, I can call on you." Pyrites looked at Marcus and asked, "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? I thought you knew what was on the diagram. Didn't you have your hand raised?" He cleared his throat and waltzed up to the front of the room. "My name is Jules Pyrites, and I am going to be in charge of educating you in the Manipulations field. Your Foreign Magic teacher appointed me to the task, so make sure to give him a 'thank you' next time you see him in the halls or at dinner."

Harry simply sat there and let Pyrites continue lying about his history and fraudulent adventures. Harry knew the tales were full of crap, but some of the unenlightened students seemed to be taking in every word their new professor uttered out of his deceiving mouth. Unlike the believers, he wasn't interested at all, and was counting the seconds on the clock until this horrid class would be dismissed. Harry began to doze off, and he didn't care if Pyrites caught him.

By the time he woke up, class had been dismissed, and everyone was walking out the door. "I'll see you later, Mr. Potter," said Pyrites in an eerily friendly voice. "One of us will prove to be successful by the end of the year, and rest assured, it's going to be me. I don't tolerate failures."

Harry raced to catch up with Hermione, but thought better of it when he saw that Celia and Ron were in her company. He decided it would be a better idea to simply catch up with Blaise and Rhianna. There was only one class left for the day, and that was Transfigurations, which he'd be sharing with only the Slytherins and his fellow Gryffindors. He was relieved to know that he wouldn't have to share any more classes with Celia for the rest of the day.

As he walked into the classroom, Harry caught another surprised glimpse of McGonagall's neon-green and highlighter-yellow plaid outfit, and couldn't help but snigger at Blaise's prank. "Hello, Mr. Potter," she said merrily. "Today, we're going to Transfigure this bouquet of wildflowers into different types of songbirds, including one that most of you should be quite familiar with. Larks are the saddest-sounding songbirds, as you already know; they have the most depressing note. I picked a small bluebell to change into a lark, and I hope most of you will choose something more along the lines of a nightingale."

"Professor, I need to use the bathroom," said Lavender. "May I have a hall pass?" McGonagall wrote Lavender a note and told her to be back in ten minutes at the most. "Don't worry; I'll be back before you know it! I love Transfigurations."

Suddenly, a fat barn owl flew through the open window with a letter in its talons. "Oh, why hello there, Commodus," McGonagall said cheerily. "Students, this is Commodus; he's Professor Cyanis's owl. Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Ahsimal, please come up to the Private Library on the Third Floor for an emergency meeting," McGonagall read. "It's from the Headmaster. We'll continue our lesson next time. All I ask is that none of you wreck or ruin anything of mine while I'm away. If you do that for me, you're permitted to work on your homework, study, or talk." With those parting words, she waltzed out.

Harry wanted to talk to Hermione, but Ron got to her first, much to his disappointment. He wasn't about to risk talking to Malfoy, or even Marcus. Rhianna and Blaise seemed to be in some sort of trance in the back row and had put up a little make-shift sign that read DO NOT DISTURB US; WE ARE MEDITATING UPON DENEB AND ALPHA CENTAURI. Seamus, Dean, and Neville were studying for the upcoming Foreign Magic test on South Africa, and had also put up 'don't bother us' signs. It was terrible; Harry felt quite alone, not having anybody to talk to.

A thought struck him so quickly, he was a bit surprised that he hadn't thought of it beforehand. He had a captive audience in the mirror he kept in his pocket. To make sure nobody was watching, Harry pulled out the mirror and then opened it, covering up everything but the glass with his hands. He didn't want anybody knowing that he was carrying around a make-up compact, even though he didn't use the cosmetics. Had he been as girly-looking as Darius, people would probably begin to wonder about him. "Stanzi, are you there?" he whispered.

Stanzi turned around to face him, and he could tell she'd been crying; the tip of her nose and the top of her cheeks had turned red, her eyelids looked a bit puffy, and there was the ultimate tell-tale sign—her black mascara and eyeliner had streamed all the way down her face. "Where else could I possibly be?" she said tearily. "It's not like I'm going anywhere any time in the near or distant future." She dabbed her eyes with a long black sleeve from her robe, which seemed to be three sizes too large for her, and sniffled a bit.

"There's nothing to do," Harry said flatly.

"You pulled me out to talk to me simply because you're bored?" Stanzi asked quizzically. "I've never heard _that_ one before, but there's a first time for everything, I guess."

"I hope I didn't hurt your feelings the last time we spoke," Harry said apologetically. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," Stanzi said, still trying to dry her teary eyes. "Whenever I'm reminded of the people I cared for the most, and realize neither one had a pleasant end after my demise, it sickens, angers, and depresses me all at once. It's a horrible feeling, assuming that you're the cause for the destruction."

"_You_ were responsible?" Harry asked sarcastically. "How so? Please, do tell me more. You've got my full attention."

"I believe I was responsible," Stanzi continued, "At least for the death of my son. Had I not made an enemy of Varinia Loxias, then he'd probably be a Second or Third Year at Hogwarts by now, and I believe he'd be either a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw. I know that a prophecy was made about you; Harry, I know that you're the Boy-Who-Lived and all that stuff; I was still alive up until the time you were approaching six or seven. A prophecy was made about me when I was little as well, but nowhere near as important as yours. Agnes Hawkbane, a famous soothsayer, was in town when I was little, and my father thought it would be a good idea to see if she could determine something about my future. I think he thought going to see a true Seer would be fun or something just as ridiculous. Well, Ms. Hawkbane took one look at me and said, 'She will bring her future family into destruction unintentionally.'" Stanzi looked quite depressed by this point; she pulled out a bottle of black nail polish and began to paint. "Guess what? It came true."

"You can't blame yourself for what Quirrell did," Harry said exasperatedly. "It isn't your fault that he sided with Voldemort. It was his headache—_literally_—not yours. As for Loxias, it's her fault about Cecil, not yours. Sure, a Seer predicted your family would come to an unhappy end, but Professor Trelawney makes predictions like that so frivolously up here, hardly anybody takes her seriously anymore; I know _I_ don't."

"You have other friends besides me, don't you?" Stanzi inquired. "If you _do _have other friends, you never mentioned them to me before."

"There's Hermione Granger, for a start; there isn't a single spell Hermione can't master," Harry said proudly. "And then there's Ron Weasley—"

"Is he related to Bill Weasley?" Stanzi blurted. "Better yet, is your friend Ron just as sexy? I dated Bill for two months."

"I don't know if you'd think Ron's sexy or not, Stanzi; I don't look at guys like that," Harry pointed out. "But, Bill is Ron's older brother. I've got some other friends as well, but Ron and Hermione are my best friends. Would you like me to list some others?"

"I heard Varinia mention some girl named Cassandra Snape—" Harry closed the mirror immediately after Stanzi mentioned that name. He didn't want to talk about Cassandra, especially to somebody like Stanzi that got him depressed very easily without intending to. He put the mirror back in his pocket and noticed that five minutes were still left before the bell would ring again.

Harry pulled out a half-empty composition book he used to write down miscellaneous thoughts he'd have every once in a blue moon. "Stanzi needs to quit putting herself down; it wasn't her fault," he grumbled as he wrote it down in ink in the book. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the ink rearrange itself on the page in his notebook. It now read '**I can show you a technique where you will never be in need of a person to talk to ever again. Please see me after school in Turret Fifteen.**'

"What are you trying to get me to do?" Harry wrote back on the sheet of paper, expecting an answer to appear. Just as he predicted, there it was; '**So you are suspicious…I cannot blame you, Harry. I would be curious as to where this was coming from as well if I did not recognize the handwriting. All I am going to show you is a modified version of what you are doing with me right now; holding a conversation through a piece of paper.**'

"Who am I writing to?" Harry asked inquisitively. This all seemed a bit fishy coming from some anonymous writer. '**I am most certainly not out to get you or anything just as preposterous. I am Mortimer Ebenezer Skylarke, your Curses & Rootwork Professor. I honestly thought you would have recognized the handwriting as mine.**' When Harry looked closer, he realized that it was indeed Skylarke's handwriting. He rolled his eyes and wrote back, "Okay, I'll see you there, Professor."

Skylarke wrote back**, 'I am sure that you will enjoy this. I kind of get the feeling that you are literally dying to talk to Sirius Black again. This will enable you to do so if the writing is done properly. I believe I'll be seeing you shortly**. ' Skylarke had just said the magic words; he had caught Harry's full interest.

"Please, do tell me more," Harry wrote quickly. Skylarke didn't reply. At that moment, the bell rang. Instead of wanting to catch up with Hermione, Harry was rather excited about rushing off to Turret Fifteen before dinner. He wanted Skylarke to teach him what he claimed to know how to do. Having a chance to talk to Sirius was like offering Voldemort immortality; of _course_ Harry wanted to have the necessary skills. He began writing his original thoughts about Stanzi Talus-Quirrell down on the paper. The ink didn't rearrange itself; it stayed in his original words and didn't do anything else. The bell rang to indicate that Transfigurations was supposed to be over.

Finally, McGonagall came back through the door, but realized class had been dismissed. Therefore, she let everyone out and said calmly, "Please, everyone; enjoy the rest of your week. We'll focus on flowers and songbirds next time. You might want to study ahead of time."

"Yeah, right," Harry said sarcastically when he was out of McGonagall's earshot. Studying was something he didn't have the time (or the drive) to do. The Hawkbane Quidditch team was going against Hufflepuff very soon, and Harry wanted to get a head-start before the game became a serious issue. His Soulcatcher _and_ his Firebolt were both out there by the field, so one of the other players could use the Soulcatcher if they felt the urge. Snitchgrass had given that broom to Harry right before the beginning of school, but he no longer trusted his Advanced Astrology professor. Since Harry made the assumption that it could still be possible that Snitchgrass was serving Voldemort, he had gotten rid of the owl cage, and no longer used the Soulcatcher in Quidditch practice. As for the crystal ball, it was in Skylarke's room so a professor Harry actually trusted could see what it was really doing besides making the future clearer to see.

Harry made it over to the field and noticed Josh, Marcus, Malfoy, Lisa, and Isis were there, but Ron and Celia hadn't bothered to show up for practice. "We can manage with just two Chasers," Malfoy pointed out, "but what the Hell are we going to do without King Weasel playing as Keeper? We need to replace him for practice, or better yet, for good." Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long yawn. "This is going to suck; I can already tell."

"Hold on a minute," said Isis. "I've got an idea; we've got two Seekers, so why don't you or Harry play Keeper?" Malfoy looked quite appalled by Isis's suggestion, but Harry thought it was a rather good plan. "Harry, would you mind temporarily playing Keeper? Ron didn't bother to show up for practice, as you can see, and we are in dire need of a person to fill in the empty space."

"What are we going to do about Wells? We're missing a damn Chaser," griped Lisa.

"We're going to do like I already said, Turpin," Malfoy sneered. "We'll simply play with two Chasers instead of three. Or we could always boot Wells off the team and find somebody that's a better athlete. Remember when she got conked by that Bludger last time we played?"

Harry assumed the position as Keeper for nearly two hours until Quidditch practice was adjourned. It was a good game, but it just wasn't the same without Ron and Celia on the team. Isis did a good job, but looked a bit out of place doing most of the work. Lisa complained and whined until practice was over. Josh and Marcus did their best, as always, but Josh had his hair pulled up into a hair-net again. As for Malfoy, he barked at everybody every chance he got, and that thoroughly annoyed Harry. The only reason Malfoy was doing so was because Phoebus had stopped coaching to fill in his new job at the Private Library. It was tedious work, and Harry had never been happier that practice was finally over.

Once Quidditch was taken care of, Harry and the other team members that had practiced went into the Great Hall to eat dinner. Harry took a seat in-between Steve Goldman and Winnefred Weasley; since they were in the middle of an argument, neither one objected to the intrusion. Harry began to eat his shepherd's pie, and just watched the tension rise between the redheaded girl and the chubby boy. Dinner became quite mundane, until Winnefred saw a slice of pie that she tried to get. However, Dean got to it first. "My friend was trying to get that slice of apple pie, Dean," Steve spat. "Hand it over, or I'll get my big brother Josh to beat you up for me." Dean let out a heavy sigh and gave Steve the slice. Like every other Gryffindor guy, Dean didn't want to hear more about Josh Goldman. "Here you go, Winnefred. Want to be friends again?"

"Sure!" Winnefred said and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek. "You know I can't stay mad at you for too long without feeling awful about it. At this rate, we'll be best friends forever." She patted him on the shoulder and said, "Well, kid, you did great; the pie's delicious."

Watching Winnefred and Steve make up over their squabble made Harry feel terrible about getting indignant at Ron. He should have been there to encourage his friend, and instead, he had said nothing but mean things about Celia. Ron was at the table, writing another note. "Hey," Harry said flatly.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Ron replied, holding up the love letter. "You came here to nag at me about my girlfriend again, right?"

"No," Harry said, chewing at the corner of his mouth. "I thought I'd come over here to tell you I'm sorry, and that I'm really glad you like somebody that much that likes you back." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "What the Hell, right? I guess I _was_ jealous." Ron looked surprised, and then a smile curled up on his face. "Are we going to be okay, Ron?"

"Yeah," Ron answered. "I guess we can't get mad at each other for long." He offered a bit of his dessert to Harry. "Apple Pie, Harry?"

"No, thanks," Harry said. "I just saw your cousin eat a slice of it; she looked like a goat."

Darius quickly rushed over to the Gryffindor table and scooted in next to Harry. "Hello," said the Necromancy teacher. "You're not going to believe what happened to your Alchemy teacher." He pointed a freshly-painted fingernail at Loxias, who was at the table, shaving off the beard Rhianna had given her. "Isn't that hilarious? She's made quite a spectacle of herself. It's odd; I'm a man, and I've never needed to shave. Loxias is a woman, and she suddenly grows a beard to envy Hagrid's. It's fishy, yes, but it _is_ funny." Harry couldn't help but laugh as well when he saw the look on the face of Varinia Loxias. She still looked like a clean-cut version on Constanza Talus-Quirrell dressed in tourmaline-and-pewter-colored robes, but the beard was enough to make anybody laugh. Once Darius had gotten the attention of every student dining in the Great Hall, he pointed at Loxias, and then moved back to his seat with the other professors. Only one of the Gryffindors didn't laugh, and that was Neville. He looked at Loxias with a trace of pity.

"I've got something I want to give you once dinner's over," Harry said to Ron. "You remember the Soulcatcher that Snitchgrass gave me? I'd like you to have it."

Ron's jaw dropped in surprise. "Harry; there is no way in Heaven or Hell you'd do something that crazy. Surely you're kidding me." Harry shook his head to indicate he wasn't lying to his friend. Ron's already cheery face amplified with excitement. "I could _never_ have afforded something like that. Harry, honestly, are you _sure_ you aren't joking?"

"Look, I'm sure that I'm sure," Harry said, pulling out his wand to perform a Summoning Charm. "_Accio Soulcatcher!_" The splendor of the broomstick caught the attention of several students in the Great Hall as it gracefully floated toward Harry and Ron. It kept coming closer, until it landed in Ron's lap. "I only used it once or twice, so it's still quite new." Harry saw Skylarke was over at the teachers' table, and seemed to be in a good cheer along with Darius, Dumbledore, and Flitwick. "You're going to have to excuse me. I've got to talk to Skylarke about something."

Harry walked over toward the teachers' table (most of the other students had left the Hall by now) and stopped in front of Skylarke. "Hello, Professor Skylarke," he said politely.

"Oh, I need to talk to you in private for a minute," Skylarke said, laughing. "Follow me, Harry." Harry gladly obeyed his professor and walked out of the Great Hall. Suddenly, Skylarke's voice became rougher and a bit higher, "Morty's right outside of Turret Fifteen, waiting for you to show up; I'm not your Curses & Rootwork master." The impostor Skylarke held up a flask filled with Polyjuice Potion and said, "I'm actually Aurelius Fallowin, in case you were wondering. This was my disguise for the day, just in case anybody caught me. While I was talking to the Headmaster in private—before Darius and Flitwick butted in—it seems he already knew that I was here, and also knows that I'm an innocent man. He's not going to betray me unless I betray him, which hopefully won't be anytime soon." He got a friendly smile on his face and said, "Does Rick ever say anything about me?"

"Are you talking about Rick Fallowin, your nephew, or some other Rick?" Harry pondered.

"Rick Fallowin, my nephew," Aurelius answered. "Does he think I'm guilty?"

"Yes, he does," Harry said. "Come to think of it, so does nearly everybody at Hogwarts." Aurelius didn't look all that delighted with that news; the smile on his face had disappeared. "If you need me to testify on your behalf to get your name cleared, I will," Harry offered. "After all, you're on my side." Aurelius smirked and then rushed off into an empty classroom. "What are you going in there for? Isn't it filthy?"

"Er…yeah, it is, but for right now, it's become home-sweet-home," Aurelius said in a rather sarcastic tone to indicate he'd rather be lodging elsewhere. "My only possessions right now are my new wand, a pillow, a couple of pairs of clothes, and a blanket I stole from Trelawney's room—"

"Rick said Professor Trelawney's his Aunt," Harry said suddenly. "Is it true?"

"She used to be married to my older brother, Orpheus Fallowin," Aurelius said. "I've got an older brother and then I have my twin brother, Licinius, that's a few minutes older than me. In a sense, you could say I'm the family baby. A nasty divorce gave way after Sibyll '_predicted'_ Orpheus's horrible death for nearly the fiftieth time. After that, the papers were signed, and the two of them never wanted anything to do with each other ever again." Aurelius let out a long yawn and said, "The effects of my potion are wearing off, so I must retire for the night before somebody sees me." He quickly turned into a crow and flew into the empty classroom.

Harry had his wand out, in case he ran into somebody like Aurelius's brother, Licinius, in the corridors. It was unlikely, but he wasn't going to take his chances while he was unaccompanied. The staircases led him very easily to Turret Fifteen, and, just as he had written, the real Skylarke was right outside the classroom door, sleeping lightly. The depressing expression that was usually on his sullen face was gone in his sleep; the tension wasn't there. Instead of looking pleasant or younger, Skylarke looked like an embalmed corpse, and Harry would have mistaken him for one had he not have been breathing. "Er…hello."

Skylarke took his time to wake up; his jade eyes opened slowly from behind his crooked thin-wire glasses, and he let out a long yawn that smelled like crushed nutmeg. "You decided to take my offer after all," he said drearily; the grave, solemn expression returned to his sallow face. He pulled out a comb and began to get the tangles out of his mane of auburn hair. "I was wide awake when I started walking in this direction. It's strange, Harry; I feel so drained. I have never felt so energy-deprived before in all my life. For the life of me, I wonder what's happening to my body, and more importantly, what is happening to my very soul."

Harry took a step back when Skylarke said that. "Is there any chance you might be the person carrying the gorgonix?"

"I doubt it," Skylarke said after pondering that thought for a while, "but it isn't unlikely, either. Anything is probable these days, and I wouldn't be surprised one way or the other. But, I want you to promise me something; if I turn out to be the Carrier, kill me before I kill you. After all, Harry; you're the only person that has gone against the Dark Lord on your own and lived to tell the tale at least five times now. There was the incident where you got the scar to begin with at Godric's Hollow, the catastrophe involving the Philosopher's Stone and Professor Quirrell—I never knew the guy, but Severus tells me he was quite an asshole—, the terror of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, the tragic death of that poor Cedric Diggory chap when the Dark Lord came back stronger than before, and the demise of your own godfather—Severus told me about Sirius and you as well—just last year in the Department of Mysteries. That won't be the last chaotic memoir you're going to have, I can guarantee you that, and I'm not a professional Seer like Sybil Trelawney claims to be, or a world-renowned Clairvoyant like Claire Lewn. I'm simply a man with broken dreams and a Mage's Degree in the Dark Arts, and I was a lot like your friend Hermione when I was a student here. My professors said that I had the world at my feet at one time, but look at what a mess I've become now."

"At one point, someone said that only Dumbledore knew more than you in this school—"

"I doubt that," Skylarke said nervously. "I practically suck at performing Exorcisms, unlike Aurelius, who used to be an Exorcist for a living. Severus has always been able to kick my ass in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Darius and I are at a par when it comes to Necromancy, and I couldn't tell you the details of any Goblin Rebellion to save my life. The list goes on of things I _can't _do, so I'm beginning to view myself as a freak of nature, just like everyone else does. I might not be a _professional_ Seer, but I do know how to operate a crystal ball correctly." He opened the door to his classroom and said, "Feel free to come in if you like. I'll show you how to do Automatic Writing in a moment."

Harry took a seat in Skylarke's office once it was unlocked. He saw a large stack of Curses & Rootwork textbooks that Skylarke himself had written. "You know a lot about your major subject; anyone could see that," Harry said, trying to cheer Skylarke up a little. The gaunt man's emotions would rub off on Harry whenever he was in a five meter radius; it was surprising how influential he could be. "Curses & Rootwork, it's a tough course."

"I agree with you," Skylarke admitted. "It was tough for me when I began studying it. You know about the Von Dorian family, right? The infamous vampire clan?"

"Yeah, I know about them," Harry said. "Snape's sister-in-law is a Von Dorian, isn't she? _Lydia_ Von Dorian?"

Skylarke nodded to indicate that was correct. "Well, like the Von Dorians, the Skylarkes insisted upon making their children study a specific kind of magic that appealed to them from the earliest age as humanly possible; as soon as they could read. Míguel started training in Quidditch by the time he was five, and before he died, three National Championship teams were offering him outrageously high salaries to play for the professional league. Had he lived for another five years, my asshole of an older brother would have become a Quidditch legend like Viktor Krum. My demon-child sister, Stella Piper, had a fetish for Divination and Clairvoyancy, and those were the only two classes she did well in by the time she reached Hogwarts. The fascination I had was with the Dark Arts, especially Curses." Skylarke pulled out a manila folder filled with nearly a hundred blank sheets of parchment, and then placed an unopened bottle of black ink on his small marble-top table. "Well, that's enough of _that_; I bet you'd rather converse with Sirius than with me. How about we begin our lesson?"

"Sure," Harry said, reaching for the bottle of ink. Skylarke grabbed Harry's wrist rather tightly and pried the bottle out of his hand. "What are you doing? Don't I have to write?"

"Yes, you do, but that's not what you do _first_," Skylarke said. "Just be a bit patient, and it'll come to you quite easily." He pulled out a fluffy, emerald-green quill and tapped the tip with his gloved finger. "You don't need the ink until later. The first thing you'll need to do is dry-write 'my name is Harry Potter' on the parchment. After that, grab the ink and write 'I want to speak to' and then write the name of the person you wish to write to and get a response from. This is another type of Necromancy, just in case you were wondering where this practice fits into place."

"Oh," was all Harry could bring himself to say. He pulled out a quill and dry-wrote 'my name is Harry Potter' and then dipped the quill into the ink; '**I want to speak to Sirius Black**.' "What do I do now?"

"Just hold on a moment; you'll get some results if you'll just be _patient_. But, whatever happens during this session, _never_ take your quill off the parchment! If you do that, then the writing session will be officially over for both you and for Sirius." Skylarke let out a heavy yawn and said, "Could you put the ink back where it's supposed to be when you're done? I don't know what came over me, but I've suddenly gotten quite tired. Therefore, I will rest, and perhaps I'll be revitalized come morning-time." Skylarke walked off toward a smaller room connected to his office and then closed the door. The last thing Harry could see inside that room was a black-light.

"I want to speak to Sirius Black," Harry muttered under his breath. Almost immediately after that, his hand seemed to be moving as if it was possessed. Suddenly, new words appeared on the parchment: 'My name is Sirius Black, and I want to speak to Harry Potter.' Harry's eyes widened in shock, and then he wrote, "Sirius? Is that you?"

'Damn right it is me,' Sirius replied through the paper. 'I was wondering when the next time you would try to contact me would be. What have you been up to lately with Ron and Hermione?'

"Oh, nothing much," Harry began, wondering what he should write next. "Ron's got a girlfriend named Celia. She's Dumbledore's granddaughter."

'I bet Ron is delighted; I just hope you're not getting jealous.'

"No, not at all…everything else has just been weird. Did you know that Snape got sent to Azkaban and didn't come out for almost three years?"

'What the Hell are you talking about, Harry? He was up at Hogwarts when you were a Fourth Year, bothering the snot out of everybody, and when you were a Fifth Year, he _still_ attended meetings for the Order. How could he have been in Azkaban?'

"I've got two words for you; Laconus Curse. That wasn't Snape you were arguing with."

'Well, it damn well _sounded_ like him. If it wasn't Snivellus, then who was it?'

"Julius Cantarus," Harry scribbled down. "He's not only a skilled Leglimens/Occlumens, but he's a Metamorphmagus, Slayer, and probably the cleverest impostor I've run into yet; I didn't even know that he was a fraud until he began to get careless. His face was all decayed; I'm not lying to you Sirius; Cantarus looked like a Dementor."

'Have you got the mirror I gave you last year; the one from the set James and I used to talk to each other during separate detentions?'

"I keep it in my pocket; do you have yours?"

'Unfortunately, I don't, but I know how to send it down here for me to use it. I left it in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and it simply needs to be tossed into the fire. Does that sound easy enough to do? I bet it'd be easier to contact me than doing this writing garbage Morty's showing you how to do.'

"You know Professor Skylarke?"

'Yes, I do; he used to be good friends with Snivellus, _especially_ by the time they went with Aurelius Fallowin to the same University. I never had any problems with Morty or Aurelius (especially Aurelius, because he was a fellow Gryffindor; how a nice guy like Morty could be sorted into Slytherin, I'll never know), and I doubt they were that much of an influence on Snivellus. Had they been able to influence him, you wouldn't have had a Professor Severus Snape up at Hogwarts. Have you met Aurelius Fallowin?'

"Yes; I know he's innocent, too. He said that you two got to be pretty close in Azkaban."

'He wasn't lying to you about any of that. I know Licinius Fallowin's a Death Eater; he was one of the first, and Regulus had to respect his authority. I'd know, because he kept coming home, griping about Licinius _this_ and Licinius _that_. It was quite annoying.'

"HARRY!" Ron shouted from the hall.

"COME QUICK!" screamed Hermione five seconds later.

Harry wrote on the parchment, "Sirius, I've got to go. You and Lupin take care." He then rushed out of Skylarke's room to see that a whole crowd of students had scrambled in front of the Curses & Rootwork classroom entrance. When Harry came out of the room, he could see why; Professor Lewn had been strangled to death with a blue-and-bronze striped scarf…just as Cassandra had predicted only a couple of months earlier. "What happened here?"

Ron and Josh looked horrified to see that their Hawkbane was dead. Hermione finally brought herself to say, "Isis and Pansy aren't here anymore, but all four of Lewn's sponsored students were going to accompany her to the Private Library—the same room Fluffy used to be in—to do a little research on the Macedalion technique—"

"The four of us went on in to the library, and got Phoebus to find the books. By the time we were out, Lewn was already dead," Josh said in a rather trembling voice. "Somebody murdered her in cold blood, and I wonder why; she was pretty, smart, and funny."

"Sexy, too," Marcus grumbled from the back. Malfoy, Rick, Marcus, and several other boys in the Hawkbane program all seemed to be greatly distraught by the fact that Lewn was going to be replaced. The chances of a new Clairvoyancy professor looking as good as Lewn were pretty slim; even Harry had thought Lewn had been a gorgeous blonde. "Where's Ahsimal?"

"I'm right here with the rest of you," Darius said flatly. He didn't look upset about Lewn's death in the least. Instead, a look of relief had found its way to the surface of his pale face. "I heard some students screaming, so I showed up. Who's responsible?"

"How should _we_ know?" Ron asked cynically. "Why didn't you come to help Claire?"

"You two were never the best of friends," Josh spat at Darius, who was beginning to look quite uncomfortable. "I hope a Slayer gets the better of you and sends you directly to Hell. I bet you're the culprit! So far all the evidence points towards a vampire like you!"

"Oh, _really_?" Darius hissed sarcastically. "Perhaps nobody told you, Goldman; vampires always _bite_ whatever they kill before giving the fatal blow; we don't simply _strangle_ somebody to death without getting a juicy morsel first. Claire had my favorite blood type, A-, but I never gave her a nip. I should have done so to teach her not to mess with me, but I never laid a finger on her." Josh and a whole crowd of Hufflepuffs were bombarding poor Darius with questions, and managed to make the bewildered vampire run away in a flustered panic. Everybody could hear him running down the hallway back to the staircase that would lead to Turret Thirteen. The door slammed.

"Ron, are you going to be okay?" Harry asked his friend.

"Yeah," Ron said, wiping a tear from under his eye. "Claire was radiant, and I'm going to miss her, but her teaching methods sucked." He looked at the corpse again and groaned. "I'm heading off to the Gryffindor Tower; I think I'm going to be sick." Hermione tagged along, and so did a few other Gryffindors that had gotten a bit too much information by looking at Lewn's asphyxiated body; the professor's lips had turned blue, and so had her fingernails.

Harry didn't want to leave; the thought that Cassandra had known about this ever since she'd done that dreadful project in Clairvoyancy class made his blood curdle. If he'd known somebody was going to die and there was nothing he could do to change the future, he probably would have gone insane…especially if that person was somebody he cared about. It wasn't that he had really cared that much for Lewn (she had been—at times—a sick, manipulating bitch), but he really would miss the tight pink dresses, smell of cheery perfumes, and sweet giggles of mischief. A single thought was racing through his mind, but he wasn't sure if it would be true or not…since another Hawkbane murder had happened at Hogwarts, would Dumbledore close down the school? A shiver ran up his spine at the very idea of something like that actually happening. If Hogwarts ended, where would he go?

Finally, Harry got a chance to see why everybody had crowded around Lewn; not only was the Dark Mark on her left forearm, but there was also a piece of paper dangling around her neck. Written in a very drippy, blue ink was one word that made Harry break into a cold sweat: _Lamia_.

Ok, this is the 18th chapter of the fic. I have only 6 reviews! Come on folks! Please send me some reviews! I really want to know what you think of this fic! Please? Read and Review!

Thanks!


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen:

Fifth Dawn of the Slayers Renaissance

The next couple of days passed by quite slowly for everyone. Instead of finding a true replacement for Clairvoyancy, a rumor was passed around that the class would no longer exist. To several people, this was a relief—Lewn had been failing students to her heart's desire—until Dumbledore made a different announcement at dinner to correct the gossip surrounding Claire Della Lewn and her class.

"Students, I have come to a decision regarding the Clairvoyancy class. Instead of discontinuing a class I feel will really help everybody; I will be taking away our elective Hawkbane course and placing Professor Furrier as the new Clairvoyancy professor. Clairvoyancy will continue, but Hogwarts no longer will offer an Animagery course."

"I never liked teaching Animagery, anyway," Furrier said cheerily. "I got my Magician's Degree in Clairvoyancy, and I've been trying to get Claire's job for years."

He rubbed his front paws together and purred a bit as Lewn's badge was placed on his cat-sized robes. "Hm…the only thing that could make me happier now would be becoming a human again."

When Ebonyste made a teasing remark that it wasn't going to happen any time soon, Furrier began to swish his luxuriously long tail quite angrily. "I'm warning you, fairy-boy. Don't mess with me today."

"Look, I can't help but pick on you, Mr. Kitty Cat!" Ebonyste giggled with pleasure at his own little joke. "Hey, everybody! Look at what Professor Fluff-butt accomplished!"

Furrier was not happy about Ebonyste's teasing, but it was apparent that he wasn't going to let a half-fairy spoil his day even further. He yowled to indicate he wasn't enjoying the taunts, and the message quickly got across to Ebonyste, who left him alone after that…for the time being.

Several students and professors went up to congratulate Furrier on getting the position he had wanted, and Celia even hugged the calico quite gently. Instead of complaining, Furrier began to purr. "Alexander, I am so proud of you! You're the best Hawkbane I could wish for!"

The attention he was getting seemed to settle well with Furrier, until Loxias showed up with a smile on her face. There were a couple of Band-Aids over the nicks she had gotten from shaving off the beard Blaise had given her. Furrier got quite agitated after that; he arched his back, his hair stuck up on end, he lowered his ears, and let out a rather recognizable sound; a cat hissing.

Harry didn't feel like praising the cat; after all, Furrier didn't like him all that much. As the crowd got bigger and bigger, Harry walked off further away. He was delighted to learn that the Clairvoyancy class would not be meeting again until the next week; he had even finished Astronomy early today. It seemed there was nothing to do; nobody had assigned homework except for Snape, but there was no surprise in that. The day Snape _didn't_ pass out an assignment would be the day Voldemort would kiss a Mudblood child on the cheek fondly; it just wasn't going to happen. There was no Quidditch practice, and the homework wasn't there either. It was strange; the only thing Harry wanted to do was try to find some more clues as to what was going on at Hogwarts, according to the Death Eaters, Snitchgrass, Ebonyste, and Skylarke. There was a story behind it all, and Harry could sense that, but there had to be some way to put it all together in a relatively understandable way. At the present, he had only had experience with a few fragments of the past (including his interviews with Sebastian), and the accounts of a dead woman stuck in a mirror and an ailing man that everyone seemed to classify as a freak of nature. All of the evidence he had at present only put together small bits and pieces, nothing more.

Ever since Stanzi had uttered Cassandra's name, Harry hadn't spoken to her from the mirror. He knew that she could tell him a lot about Loxias, as well as a few other people, but he wasn't sure if he should really believe the testimony of Quirrell's widow, even if she _had _died a few years before Harry's would-be murderer. The poor, tortured soul was miserable, and it was very easy to tell she hated being stuck in the mirror. In a way, Harry wanted to help her, but he had no idea how he could do so, so he didn't let it bother him too much.

The Automatic Writing lessons with Skylarke were no longer in business; Harry had gotten another person in the Order to mail Sirius's mirror to him. He threw it into the fire, as Sirius had instructed to do, and then decided to test it out. "Sirius," he whispered into his own mirror, making sure nobody else was in the hall.

"Yes?" Sirius said. "Hello, Harry; I _told_ you it would work. So…how's everything going in the world of the living?"

"Lewn's dead, Parenein's dead, Leir's dead, Ebonyste isn't dead yet, but I'm waiting. I've got a good feeling that Furrier, Darius, or Snitchgrass will be next; half of the Hawkbanes have died, and the semester's only halfway over. When we had the problem with the Chamber of Secrets, it was nowhere near as bad as this _mess_."

Harry sighed; a student hadn't died since Halloween (the name was one he didn't recognize), but Hogwarts had lost two of its highest-ranking professors in the earliest part of a single month. Sirius didn't look all that surprised. "Er…Sirius, is Lupin with you as well?"

"No," Sirius admitted. "I haven't seen him for a couple of weeks, actually; we were simply talking to Agnes Hawkbane, and he just…er…disappeared. Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Not a trace," Harry admitted, not sure what to make of this story. "Do you think someone brought him back to life?"

"It's possible," Sirius said, shrugging his shoulders. "Remus got along with Morty Skylarke quite well; as far as I know, they never had any major problems. You know that Morty's one of the best Necromancers available, right?"

"Er…_right_," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's Skylarke and Darius." The thought Sirius was trying to imply had finally sunken into Harry's mind. "Do you think Skylarke might have Resurrected him?"

"I'm not affirmative, but it's possible he might have," Sirius said. "I'm just saying that I haven't seen Remus anywhere for quite a while, and I have no idea where he might have gone." Sirius let out a groan and said, "Look, Harry, Death isn't all that great. I had no intentions of facing it this early, and I want to be back in the world of the Living. Would it be too difficult for you to talk to Ahsimal and see if he'd be willing to Resurrect _me_?"

"It wouldn't be difficult at all," Harry admitted. "I believe Darius is on our side."

"I'm not so sure about _that_," Sirius said icily. "Darius Ahsimal used to be the second-in-command of Voldemort, he's a bloodthirsty vampire, he teaches a Dark Art that deals with Death, _and_ he's never been friends with the Order. I don't see why Dumbledore hasn't sacked such a dangerous man yet. Perhaps the reason is that Ahsimal is a living, breathing reminder of the earliest days of Hogwarts, back when the school was first founded…I doubt Dumbledore would be intimidated by someone like that, but I'm not quite sure what to think. I never liked that damn vampire, and when the Slayers Renaissance first came into effect, I began to study techniques used by actual Slayers. I studied it with fervor, until that asshole bit a girl I used to date when he reached Bloodlust. Niobe was turned into a vampire, so I quit for her own safety." Sirius looked up and then let out a long, heavy breath. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I've got to go do something for a friend down here with me. I hope you'll excuse me."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, but Sirius didn't hear him; he'd already left and the mirror only showed Harry's face once more. He put the mirror in his pocket along with the other mirror that held Stanzi Quirrell. Hermione came in to the room, and looked quite happy about something. "Hello," muttered Harry. "What got you to start skipping around like that?"

"Oh, nothing much," answered Hermione. "I'm just so glad that Professor Furrier was nice enough to take up the Clairvoyancy class. We're going to work on Pyromancy in there for our next unit! Isn't that neat?"

"What's Pyromancy?" asked Harry. "It deals with fire, right?"

Hermione nodded excitedly. "Furrier was doing a lecture in the Great Hall, and you missed it. That's why that unpleasant fur-ball was in no rush to start packing his things and hasn't gotten anyone to move it to Turret Two yet. It was a wonderful lecture, and I hate to see you missed it." She handed Harry her notebook. "You can copy my notes this time, since you didn't go."

"Hey, thanks!" crowed Harry, jumping back over to the sofa. He looked over the notes Hermione had taken for a while, and decided it _would_ be something interesting to try. He found a bag filled with lemongrass on the counter for freshening purposes, and that was the exact herb he'd need for what he wanted to do. "We've got all the material in _here_!"

"Yeah…" Hermione said. "Basic Pyromancy isn't a big deal; it just can let you see what other people are doing at the moment." A light sparkled in her eyes and a big smile came across her glowing face. "I've got a really good idea; do you want to see what Cassandra's up to in Azkaban?"

Harry knew this was going to be unpleasant, but he really _was_ curious to see how his semi-friend was doing during her imprisonment. Azkaban was still a mystery to him, and he never really felt he could talk to Sirius about it all that well; it just didn't seem right to mention something that had caused his godfather so much pain. "Can we talk to her through Pyromancy?"

"Furrier didn't cover that tonight; he just showed us how to view the actions of others through the fire," Hermione sighed and continued, "Until now, Clairvoyancy hasn't been fun. I'm sure Furrier will change that for us. We can see how Cassandra is, and we can observe what she's doing at the moment, but—"

"Can we see something that happened in the past?" pondered Harry.

"I think it might be possible, but Furrier didn't cover _that_ yet, either." Hermione sighed and said, "He also didn't show us how to make it audible. We'll get to watch her like a silent movie."

Harry shrugged; seeing Cassandra in a present, silent world was better than not seeing Cassandra at all and wondering what was happening to her. "Let's test it out." He sprinkled the lemongrass in the fire and placed a Pyromancy Charm on the fire, "_Pyrosa Psy._" Suddenly, the flames turned purple, and no longer seemed to burn. Harry knew the next part was to observe rather closely, without the flames touching him.

He and Hermione both sat down in front of the fireplace and watched the flames take on the forms of two Dementors, carrying an unconscious girl dressed in prison attire who was unmistakably Cassandra. She had lost quite a bit of weight, and had already gotten the same gaunt look that Sirius had once had. They watched as the Dementors tossed Cassandra brutally into a cell. The girl didn't make any effort to get up; she was out cold. Harry shivered in disgust; his friend was obviously sick and needed medical attention. Cassandra finally woke up, and both the Gryffindors could truly see how malnourished she actually was; deep, dark rings had formed around her eyes, and her face had gone hollow and skeletal.

"We've got to do something about this," Hermione muttered. "Look at her; it's so easy to tell she's suffering. We've got to round up a group of people to help us get her out, and I'm sure we could convince quite a number. Cassandra was in the Hawkbane students' list just like us, so I'm pretty sure that other people will view her imprisonment as nothing short of unjust." The look in Hermione's eyes suggested that she was going to do this at about the same magnitude as S.P.E.W. "I will not rest until she is taken away from that dreadful place. I saw what happened to Sirius, and I don't want to see it happen to her."

"You know, you make a lot of sense," Harry pointed out. "But, how are we going to convince everyone that Cassandra deserves to be let out? Everyone knows that she _did_ kill Parenein, be it in my defense or not. Would they side so quickly to free a murderer?"

"If we get someone that's very persuasive to manipulate their minds, it will work," said Hermione. There was a hopeful tone in her voice. "Maybe Loxias will help…"

"What are we supposed to do, Hermione? Do we drag a bunch of First Years in here, and make them all take seats and see what is going on over there?" Harry looked into the fire again for nearly ten seconds without turning away. After that, he scrambled slowly away from the fireplace. "Do we tell them that we are trying to get some people to send her back over here at Hogwarts? Would anybody support us?"

"Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna would," Hermione guessed, "and I'm sure that Celia, Josh, and Atticus would help us as well—"

"Are you joking?" Harry let out a brief, humorless laugh. "Josh wouldn't help Cassandra, even if we paid him!" Hermione had to agree with Harry about Josh; it was clear that he had never liked Cassandra anyway, so he would probably be defiant. "Rick is probably going to remain indifferent, _as usual_. Marcus wants to become a Slayer, so he wouldn't be a good person for this mission. Malfoy, I won't even consider, because he's a slimy git. The Butler twins might help because they idolize Luna."

"You forgot to mention Blaise and Rhianna," Hermione pointed out, and then it became perfectly clear which fellow students would help them in freeing Cassandra. "They're Cassandra's closest friends; I bet they already have a plan, and would love to let her loose."

"That's perfect!" Harry said, relieved. "I'd be surprised if they _didn't_ want her out of there…and I'm sure that Darius wouldn't mind helping us in our escapade. After all, Skylarke and he got Snape out with no help whatsoever, _and_ Cassandra so-happens to be his star pupil." The fire in the fireplace quickly died out, and became warm, falling embers. "I know you and Darius aren't exactly on the best of terms, so I'll ask him if you talk to Blaise and Rhianna." Hermione shook Harry's hand and told him that it was a done deal. "Let's fill Ron in when we see him."

He walked into his dormitory and fell down on his bed. For a boring day, he was quite tired. As soon as he was about to close his eyes, a scruffy-looking screech owl flew through the window and landed on his knee. In its claws was a small message written on a crumpled, small shred of parchment. Curious as to what this meant, Harry took the parchment from the owl and read what had been written:

"_Please meet with me in the room filled with the brass mirrors tomorrow evening, and bring the little mirror that you've been carrying around with you. I'd like to see it with my own eyes, if you don't mind_."

Harry looked at the signature at the bottom. It didn't have a specific name; the author of the note had only written a pen name at the end, "_Someone You Know That Has Conquered Death_."

Harry's mind was racing; it _had_ to be Lupin, and there was no possible way that note could have come from anybody different! The only person that he knew that had died, and had the possibility of coming back to the world of the Living was Lupin, so he felt that his inference was a correct one. He looked again at the screech owl and noticed that a tag was around its left leg that had its name on it, "Tammuz." Harry smiled at the mysterious creature and gave it an owl treat. "Thanks for the message, Tammuz," he said nicely to the tired bird. Suddenly, Tammuz started to flap his wings very quickly and hooted furiously. He made such a racket, he woke Neville up. "What's gotten into you?" Harry asked, trying to console the upset bird. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, something's wrong," said Neville, completely awake. "Tammuz is trying to tell you not to go to that room."

"You can talk to owls?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Actually, yes; I _can_ talk to owls," Neville said boldly, standing up in his flannel pajamas and flattened slippers. "Also, I've met Tammuz before. We're friends." He didn't seem to be making any of this up. Tammuz flew over toward Neville, gently landed on his shoulder, and then began to screech even louder. It was unnerving that none of the other boys were waking up; they could sleep like the dead. Neville tried to calm the owl down, but it wasn't working.

"Harry, you could be facing certain death up in that room if you go unaccompanied. Get Ron to go with you." Tammuz was still hooting as if he was crazed. "You shouldn't go up there without someone else to watch your back; somebody like Cassandra needs to escort you so you don't wind up dead." He turned to Tammuz and said, "I wish Harry could understand what it is you're trying to tell him. I hate being the translator; you know that." Tammuz gently nibbled Neville's finger, hooted once more, and then flew out the window. "It's odd; he's never told me whose owl he is."

"It's somebody I know," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "but I don't have a name yet. I bet Tammuz is Lupin's owl."

"Harry, Lupin's dead," Neville said sadly. "The murderer's still running amok." He yawned again and went back under his covers. "I'll see you in the morning; good night."

Harry looked at the note a few more times until he'd memorized it, and then went into a dreamless sleep. He didn't mind the absence of the dreams; tonight, he welcomed it.

In the morning, Harry ate breakfast with Ron, Hermione, and the other Hawkbane students. He helped himself to his usual, a raisin muffin, and silently sat at the table, unsure how to start the conversation this time. Lisa was in the corner, reading a copy of the Quibbler. He noticed Marcus was reading a book but he couldn't make out the title from a distance. "What are you reading?" he asked curiously. He scooted toward Marcus to get a better glance, and noticed it was a copy of The Slayers Renaissance by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. "Is that interesting?"

"Yes," said Marcus. "You have no idea what appeal this has for people like us."

"_People like us_, eh?" Harry repeated and asked if he could see the book. Marcus handed it over without a fight. After all, this was Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock's work; Harry wanted to see how this woman wrote:

'_True Slayers, and not fraudulent imbeciles, are probably the most admirable and noble people in the Wizarding World. It requires perseverance, patience, common sense, and a strong base in Divination-related courses. Once you have it in your mind that you want to become a Slayer, keep in mind the fact that being able to track somebody down is only half the task. To an extent, this career seems to be made up of Hide & Seek, and then the actual Slaying._

_If you want to Slay a **specific** evil creature (let's use **Lawrence Von Dorian** for an example), there are certain rules you must follow if you even want to find your prey._

_Vampires are usually more clever than humans; be on the lookout all the time._

_Beware any vampire in Bloodlust. Unless you're a professional, leave these alone._

_You can't simply do what famed Slayer **Julius Cantarus **did; he went into a vampire colony (where they were supposedly not bothering anyone) and killed every Bloodsucker he could find. Although this was a noble deed, it is illegal by our laws._

_Vampires are not the only evil beings out there that need a Slaying. There are also poltergeist that need to be gotten rid of, werewolves (a major threat with children, because they can be the most defenseless members of society), and lamiae (these are probably even worse, because they seduce men and devour children, while werewolves simply bite whenever they are provoked.)_

_Do research on the evil being you wish to Slay. _

_If you are a Slayer, and had no reason to Slay who (or rather, what) you did, except for the reason that they were a (fill in the blank here) and nothing else, that's a life sentence in Azkaban or Devestra.'_

Harry quit reading because one reference confused him. "What's Devestra?"

Marcus nodded to indicate he was about to answer. "Yeah; there's one Wizarding Prison for each continent. Devestra is in North America, Chucabrés is in South America, Kino Siang is in Asia, Azkaban is obviously in Europe, and I forgot the name of the Australian one. It's odd; I know more about the Australian prison than all the others put together, but I can't remember the name to save my life."

"Madasten," Josh said, taking a seat next to Marcus. "The name of the Wizarding Prison in Sydney is _Madasten_." He looked at Harry and asked, "Why were you two talking about prisons?"

"Dr. Hemlock mentioned Devestra, and Harry wanted to know what it was," Marcus answered. "I then told him that there's a Wizarding Prison for each continent, and started to list them. I must admit I forgot about Madasten." He then sat up and took his drink with him. "Well, I must be off. I want to be the first person in Alchemy today. I'll see both of you in class later."

"No, Marcus! Don't go!" shouted Ron. "We'll miss you!"

"Okay," said Marcus, sitting back down. "I'll stay a while longer since I'm wanted."

Harry felt horrendously miserable; his first class of the day was Alchemy with Loxias. After that, he would have Potions with Snape, Clairvoyancy with Furrier, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape, and Curses & Rootwork with Skylarke. None of those classes were necessarily fun, except for Skylarke's. At that moment, Celia, Atticus, and Rick rushed toward Harry, ready to begin their day quite eagerly. Blaise and Rhianna soon followed, but sat at the Slytherin table.

"_Finally_," said Hermione. "At last we'll get to continue that fascinating lesson on Pyromancy with Furrier! I've been anxious to find out more since the lecture last night." She sighed. "I'm not upset that Lewn's dead. She was a horrid woman."

"But she sure was sexy," Marcus said, sighing. "I'll miss that gorgeous body."

"She was _ninety-eight_, Marcus!" Ron said in a horrified voice. Harry knew, deep down, Ron had thought (like all the other boys at Hogwarts) that Lewn had been a wonderful piece of eye candy, ninety-eight or not. "The Fountain of Youth sustained her beauty, nothing else."

"Did any of you notice how Lewn died?" Hermione said, panic-stricken. "It was just like Cassandra had said when she had that incident with our first Clairvoyancy project. Once the Macedalion took over her body, she warned Lewn about death. Didn't she say that the _scarf_ would be the cause of her demise?"

"Yes, she did," Josh grimly said. "I remember that day; Cassandra writhed around like a wounded snake on the floor when she made the prediction. It was absolutely disgusting and I couldn't help but look at her." He then grumbled, "Damn bloodsuckers. I can't stand vampires—"

"You too, eh?" said Marcus, and he showed off his copy of The Slayers Renaissance to Josh. "I'm sure that Slaying would appeal to you, then. There is nothing as honorable in the world as a Slayer. We rid the world of unwanted horrors and protect the people that matter the most."

"Let me guess," Hermione hissed, "Mudbloods don't count."

"In my opinion, the lives of Mudbloods add up just like Purebloods," Marcus answered coolly. "Hermione, you'd make a wonderful Slayer. You've got the wit for it, and we all know that you're ahead of the rest of us."

Hermione's cheeks turned very pink as she blushed. "You flatter me, Marcus. Are you trying to fluster me or is it just coming naturally?"

"Neither," Marcus said, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I'm just saying what's on my mind. Hermione, you have all the makings of a great Slayer, just like my dad." It was apparent that Hermione didn't want to hear those exact words; Harry had mentioned to her that Marcus's dad, Julius Cantarus, was Mortius's true character. "Hey, is something wrong? Did I upset you?"

"No," Hermione lied. "I just didn't want to be compared with your dad—"

"Understandable," Marcus interrupted. "My dad may have been the best Slayer of this century, but he was far from being a very popular figure with the Ministry of Magic. Reason being he and my mum both did some pretty brutal stuff." He looked at Harry and made a gesture to indicate he didn't want to talk too much about his parents anymore. "Well, about Slaying; how would all of you like to help me in getting rid of Peeves?" Everybody beamed, and Marcus opened up The Slayers Renaissance to Chapter 23. "I looked over this chapter on Poltergeist Removal and Dispersing Peeves seems like it wouldn't be all that hard to do. We just need Dumbledore's permission to get rid of him. I already got Filch's."

"Poltergeists are harmless compared to lamiae, empusae, werewolves and vampires," Josh added. "I've always wanted to confront a lamia. I think they're kind of sexy."

"They're nothing but undead women that seduce men and eat children, Josh!" Ron shouted. "The lamiae are nasty folk, just like the empusae."

"What are empusae?" asked Harry. He didn't even know much about lamiae, and now he felt very confused; what on Earth was an empusa?

"Empusae are wicked beings that take on human-like forms to romanticize men and women alike. After they are tired of playing with their lovers, they will devour their prey," explained Hermione. "They were in connotation with the Grecian goddess Hecate. Isn't that dreadful? I'd hate to run across an empusa _or_ a lamia. After meeting Cassandra and taking Necromancy with Ahsimal, I think I can handle vampires. Werewolves weren't that bad, either, but those last two mentioned really make me nauseous, _especially_ lamiae."

Harry knew that Loxias was a lamia, but he wasn't sure that anybody would believe him if he said something about that at the moment. Marcus made the Slayers' trade sound very appealing and chivalrous, but Harry knew that some of the Slayer Doctrine went against what he felt was right. Not all werewolves were evil, and Lupin had proven that. Vampires were, for the most part, misunderstood, and both Darius and Cassandra were "living" proof of that. Not even all lamiae were bad people; Lydia Von Dorian seemed to be one of the nicest people Harry had met this year, and even had two kids of her own. Suddenly, Harry's mind raced back to Loxias; that woman was entirely evil, in his opinion, and had even stolen another person's identity to sustain her. That type of action was repulsive and also unforgivable. "I found out something about Loxia—"

"Good morning, Hawkbane students," Loxias interrupted Harry and sat down at the table. She was wearing a very fancy pink velvet robe with a rich red trim on the ends. In Harry's opinion, the color was incarnadine and reminded him of bloodshed and raw flesh. A sickeningly-sweet smile was on her face as she sat in-between Marcus and Ron. She was across the table from Harry and was staring at him venomously. He could see the hate in her grayish-green eyes, but her porcelain face had a false sense of friendliness on it. He could smell an oleander perfume on her, and she looked paler than ever. "I take it you studied for your test in Alchemy?"

"Not really," admitted Marcus. "I had to help Rick with a Defense Against the Dark Arts project he had to complete—"

"Well, Marcus, it's not like _you_ need to study for my class," Loxias said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. She let out an airy laugh that got on Harry's nerves and then added, "You've got the Midas Touch."

"What about Lisa and me?" Hermione snapped. "We're your Sponsored Students as well!"

"Both of you have the Midas Touch too, but neither of you are on the same magnitude as _Marcus_," Loxias taunted, and then batted her eyes at Marcus. "I'll need to see you after dinner. Will that be okay, or are you going to be busy doing something else?"

Perhaps Harry wasn't a marvelous Legilimens like Dumbledore or Voldemort, but he could easily tell what Loxias was hinting at. It was so obvious that Loxias was trying to win over Marcus and manipulate him as she pleased; she was behaving exactly like how Stanzi had characterized a lamia. Harry knew how badly Marcus wanted to be a Slayer, but he found it ironic that his friend was being led astray by one of the evil creatures he opposed. "Well, Marcus?"

"Do we have Quidditch practice, Harry?" asked Marcus. He sounded a bit worried.

"No, we don't," Harry said. "What does Professor Loxias need to see you about?"

"His grade in my class," Loxias said in a honey-sweet voice.

"If he's got the Midas Touch, there wouldn't be a problem in there," Harry snapped. The panicked expression on Loxias's face said it all; Harry had managed to see right through her meddling scheme and knew what she was _really_ trying to do to his friend. "Leave him alone."

"You're not in any place of authority, Potter," Loxias snarled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!" With that, she dusted off her robes lightly with her gloved hands, and then stomped back over to Turret Six. Harry was very relieved to see that woman leave; not only was she able to scare him a little, but she also did a exemplary job when it came to being annoying.

"What was _that_ all about?" Marcus asked curiously. "Harry, are you and Stanzi on bad terms or something? I've never seen you get along with her ever since she first arrived at Hogwarts and started teaching Manipulations. Things got even worse after she took the _Alchemy_ job. What the hell is going on between you two? Since she's my Hawkbane, I feel like I need to know."

"Yeah," agreed Hermione. "I want to find out, too."

"Since Lisa has Loxias for her Hawkbane as well, I'd even gladly tell her—"

"Harry, you _know_ Lisa's the worst gossip in the whole school!" Hermione yelped.

Harry didn't pay any heed to what Hermione was saying; even though he detested Lisa, he felt that she had a right to know about her Hawkbane as well. Besides, Loxias was an endangerment to all the students, and who would be better at spreading the truth about the Alchemy professor being a lamia than silver-tongued Lisa Turpin? "Oy, Lisa!" he shouted.

Lisa looked up from her paper and pulled a strand of bleached hair out of her face. Dark-brown roots could be seen growing in at the top. Her pointy nose had fully recovered from its damage, and she was back to her old gossipy ways, unrepentant and more powerful than ever. "What is it, Harry? Does it have anything to do with the Hawkbane Quidditch team or something similar? You _never_ want to talk to me." She glared at him warily with her mascara-and-eyeliner-covered eyes. "You want something; that's what I'm theorizing."

"Such little faith you have in me, Lisa," Harry jeered. "Look, I know something about your Hawkbane that you, Hermione, and Marcus really need to know. Can I trust you to keep it secret?"

"You know perfectly well she can't do that!" Ron blurted. "Harry, don't trust Lisa!"

"You can count on me to keep it under wraps," Lisa said nicely, and leered at Ron. "I don't squeal unless it's really juicy or it's for the common good of my fellow students." She broadened her already wide smile and elbowed Harry. "So, come on; you can tell me. If it's about Loxias, I need to know it." Her eyes opened as far as possible and she gasped. "She's a feminazi, right!"

"Nope," Harry said, "even worse than that. Loxias is a lamia, and she's not Constanza Quirrell. If you don't believe me, go to St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery and look at the graves for yourself. Besides, I've talked to the real Stanzi; the woman you're dealing with blurred her name with the real Mrs. Quirrell. There never was a Constanza Loxias-Quirrell; her maiden name wasn't Loxias, but _Talus_."

"You did your research on this topic, so it isn't a rumor?" Lisa pondered.

"It's the truth, Lisa," Harry said. "Now, you won't tell anyone about this, right?"

"Trust me," Lisa said, rushing off from the table in a fit of giggles.

"_Now_ look at what you've done, Harry!" said Ron angrily. "Since you made Lisa promise to not tell anyone, you _know_ she's going to go against her word."

"I know that," Harry admitted. "I told her that so she'd spread it around. I know what makes her tick, and we all have come to realize that if Lisa says something, everyone's heard it by the end of the day. Although everybody at Hogwarts realizes Lisa's a terrible gossip, they _know_ she's not necessarily a liar, and most people believe her rumors. If you want something spread all around the school by dinner time, tell Lisa Turpin at breakfast."

"_By_ _dinner time_?" Hermione repeated. "Harry, you greatly underestimate the power of the Lisa Turpin Network. She'll have the whole school aware that Loxias is a lamia _before lunch_!"

Inside the Alchemy classroom, Harry sat down on a cushion and reached for a clipboard. Loxias was already in there, glaring at him from her desk. In her hands was a tiny crystal ball. She mumbled something over it for a moment, and then fell into a small drowse until Rick and Malfoy woke her up. "Damn you all," she said sleepily, taking sips from a Jack Daniels whiskey bottle.

"How did you get it?" asked Malfoy. "Isn't that a Muggle drink?"

"Adonis got it for me," Loxias said groggily. "He said there's a liquor store around every corner in his family's location in Miami, so he loads up sometimes. Your Foreign Magic teacher is such a nice fellow, and very generous." She stared half-heartedly at the wooden bust and then faced her students. "As you know, we have a test today—" She suddenly collapsed and fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Apparently, we _don't_ have a test today," Celia said merrily. "She's out cold!"

"In that case, pass me the Jack Daniels, Celia!" shouted Atticus. "I'd like to try some."

"Aye, captain!" Celia howled as she passed the bottle to her friend. Atticus took one small sip and spat it back out. "Nasty, eh?"

"It tastes like how I figure griffin piss would taste," Atticus grumbled, still spitting.

"Well, it serves you right for drinking alcohol!" Hermione thundered. "Atticus, you're a Seventh Year and should be preparing for your N.E.W.T.s! I thought you'd know better than that!"

"You don't know me very well, then," Atticus said teasingly. "That was disgusting."

"Are you going to try another sip?" asked Celia.

"No."

"Good," Celia chirped. "In that case, I think I'll try some." She pressed her lips to the bottle and took a few drops of the fiery drink. "I think I prefer butterbeer. This stuff is terrible." She pointed at the virtually comatose teacher on the floor and said dully, "I don't see how she could ever bring herself to swallow this garbage. It leaves such a nasty aftertaste!" She did as Atticus had done, and began to spit out as much flavor as possible.

After seeing two of his friends believing the substance to be dreadful in taste, Harry decided it would be best not to try Jack Daniels whiskey. He couldn't help but feel relieved that Loxias had passed out; that way, he wouldn't be failing a test in Alchemy this day. It would be postponed to another day, hopefully one where he'd have a chance to do a little studying beforehand.

A few crude notes were up on Loxias's blackboard, but the whole room had been brought into disarray. Her newspapers had been strung everywhere, the glass covers for her pictures had been shattered, and some of the cushions had tears in them. "I can't stand that woman," admitted Josh. "Sure, she's pretty, but she's a _monster_. I have no problem believing Harry when he said that she's a lamia. The persona fits her perfectly." He looked at Loxias again and sighed. "I know Quirrell was with Voldemort, but I wonder if his little wifey had something to do with his downfall. I can't think of a single thing good to say about Loxias, except that she has a pretty face."

"All lamiae are pretty," said Celia. "It's part of their character. They'll use their allure and charm to lead other people to their own demises." At that moment, Loxias began to stir. "I knew it wasn't going to last," Celia grumbled. "Quick, everyone; get back in your seats!"

"As you know, we have a test today," Loxias said as she got up. "It is already on the clipboards for your convenience. You may begin now." She stumbled back to her desk and then looked around frantically. "I had a bottle of whiskey up here. Where did it go?" She glared at her students and said, "Which one of you took my Jack Daniels? I know it was one of you!"

At that moment, Loxias was cut off by an ear-shattering scream so shrill it made everyone's blood curdle. "Not again..." she muttered exasperatedly as she opened the door. "Cain! Jules! Will you two _please_ keep your Slaying business outside of my hearing range? I hate it when Darius screams; he gives me a dreadful headache."

Cyanis and Pyrites both looked at Loxias for a moment, and then switched from chasing Darius to chasing _her_. They began chanting, "Kill the lamia! Kill the lamia!" A whole swarm of Fifth Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws joined in, and so did a group of Third Year Slytherins and Gryffindors. "KILL THE LAMIA! KILL THE LAMIA!"

"Sorry, Harry; I couldn't keep that tidbit a secret after all," Lisa whispered to Harry. "I thought it would be for the common good that everyone learned of Loxias's secret. Are you mad?"

"No," Harry said, laughing. "I knew I could tell you something and have everyone in the whole school know it before lunch. You're making gossip history, Lisa."

Lisa smiled. "My name will live on in infamy. Wait until I become a reporter for the Daily Prophet and then everyone will have the chance to see my destruction in its entirety! As the saying goes, _it is calm before the big storm_; the water was tranquil until I stirred it up just a moment ago. Isn't it wonderful? I don't like Loxias, you don't like Loxias, _none_ of us like Loxias!" She scooted closer to Harry and began to bat her eyes. "Am I not the cutest busybody you've ever seen?" She puffed her lips out and outstretched her arms. "Come on; admit that I'm cute."

"I won't admit to that, but I'll admit to you being a successful busybody," Harry said. "Get away from me until Quidditch practice. I don't want you clinging toward me; you might start a rumor that we're going out, and I don't want to risk that." Lisa looked offended, but he couldn't care any less. That girl was probably the most nerve-wracking person he had to deal with in Hawkbane courses, and he wanted to be as far away from her as was reasonable. Meals, Quidditch games, classes, and special events were enough; he didn't want someone like Lisa Turpin following his friends, and _especially_ him. "If I didn't know better, I'd think _you_ were a lamia."

"You're nutters," Lisa said, prancing off. "For one thing, I'm too young. Secondly, I am lacking in lamia-style cleavage. Didn't you have a chance to see the boulders on Loxias?" She held a finger up to her lips and a wicked expression found its way to her appealing face. Just by looking in her eyes, Harry could see that a scheme or plot was already brewing in the devious Ravenclaw's mind. "Besides, Lewn was also a lamia. Mrs. Portia Cyanis is one; have you met her? She's a monster in every way imaginable, except looks; she's pretty, but _obviously_ a Dark witch and a lamia to boot. Let's just hope we don't have Portia for our new Alchemy teacher; I'm praying that we get another stud like Wolfe. Ah, now I'm wandering off topic! I can name you some other lamiae as well, Harry; I know them _all_."

"How?" After the word came out of Harry's mouth, he knew that asking Lisa that question was like asking McGonagall if she taught Transfigurations at Hogwarts; it was a loaded question. "Oh, it's through the Lisa Turpin Network, right? You find any means necessary to do your research on a juicy rumor to back it up or disprove it."

"What can I say? It's interesting, it's made me popular—I can hear you laughing at me back there, Marcus; that's _not_ nice—and it gives me something to do for a hobby. I never get bored," Lisa sounded like she wasn't stretching the truth; it was easy to tell that she loved doing what she did, even though Harry found it detestable. "Would you like some other lamia names?"

"Sure," Harry answered. "There's no way out, and I'll be forced to listen anyway. It would be pointless to obey my urge to run as far away from you as remotely possible; you'd find me."

"I love it when you're right!" Lisa squealed in her superficial voice. "I'll try to write down a list for you when I have the time, but I've known the names of all twenty ladies for three years." Suddenly, the satisfied expression on her face vanished, and she pointed an angry finger at Harry. "You just got me to spread something that wasn't any more than a cock-and-bull story about our Alchemy teacher! There never was a lamia named Constanza Loxia!"

"You're right," Hermione said, interrupting. "Lisa, leave Harry alone."

"Excuse me," Lisa spat. "We were talking, Granger. Buzz off." She then turned to Harry and said, "I'm not finished with you; Constanza Loxias is _not_ a lamia after all." Acting appalled, she put her hands up to her face and gasped. "I spread a lie that's gotten her into trouble!"

"No, you didn't spread a lie," Harry said. "I've got evidence. Besides, you're halfway right. There never was a lamia named _Constanza_ Loxias, but wasn't there one named _Varinia_ Loxia?"

"Maybe Stanzi had a lamia sister?" asked Lisa.

"I looked into the background of Mrs. Constanza Quirrell," Hermione blurted. "So did Harry; she was an only child and never had the last name 'Loxias' in her entire life. Her maiden name wasn't Loxias, but _Talus_."

"Here's another piece of information for you, Lisa; she died April 22, 1987 in a lamia attack," Harry finished. "She's buried out in St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, along with her son Cecil." Lisa looked baffled, and therefore wasn't going to open her mind to the possibility that "Constanza" Loxias was truly Varinia the lamia. Harry opened his mouth, about to say more to Lisa about the matter, but then realized that Marcus and Josh had left their cushions and neither was still in the classroom. He let out a heavy sigh, and at the same moment, another loud scream could be heard from the hallway.

"KILL THE LAMIA! KILL THE LAMIA!"

It was unmistakable; Josh and Marcus were in the crowd, along with Malfoy and an entire posse of inspired students. The Slayer campaign was running through Hogwarts at a freakishly rapid rate, and even some of the teachers seemed to get carried away by tormenting others. Curious to see who all was joining with the Slayers, Harry peered out of the door to see that it was neither Marcus nor Josh that had cornered Loxias with a crucifix…it was Rick. "_Rick_!" Harry was confused. "You believe in the Slayer's Doctrine?"

"Well, most of it," admitted Rick. "I'm not going to kill anyone; Cassandra already made that mistake and I don't want to go to Azkaban like her. I don't believe in giving werewolves, vampires, banshees, or poltergeists a hard time, but I cannot stand empusae or lamiae. I guess you could call me a Partial Slayer in Training. Cain's been teaching Draco, Marcus, and me about the power driven by the Slayers Renaissance and how it could help us. Besides that, he has introduced us to the ingenious works of Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. She's got some true talent, Harry, and I'm sure that you'd like her books as much as I do. You'd probably agree with what the Slayer's Doctrine has to say after you look at it."

"We're not murderers," said Malfoy both informatively and arrogantly. "Slayers maintain balance in this chaotic world; it is our duty to protect the innocent."

Harry pointed at Malfoy and laughed. "Of all people, _you_ are protecting the innocent? Now I know for sure that the world's going to end! I never expected you to say something so corny."

"It's the truth, though," Marcus said, backing his friend up. "We have reason to believe that Constanza Loxias-Quirrell, our Alchemy Professor as well as my Hawkbane, has the gorgonix."

"Maybe you're not as bright as I thought," Loxias spat at Marcus. "You and all the other Slytherins can be so _dense_ at times. It makes me laugh to see how utterly stupid you can become so quickly. There is no possible way that I could be the Gorgonix Carrier." She looked at Harry and the other Hawkbane students (everyone had come out to see what was going on as well) and gave them a panicky glance. "There's no proof!"

"There sure _is_ proof!" Malfoy snapped back. "Look; we've seen you hang around the victims always hours before they die; _you_ select them. You've lost control of your body before, and you've admitted to it. Also, you admitted to blackouts, didn't you? What's to stop a gorgonix from picking up someone like you as their host? Your eyes are pale, so it would be easy to hide!"

"Lies, lies; all of it! All of you are just trying to railroad me so I'll leave Hogwarts and you can get someone else to teach Alchemy!" Loxias paused to take a breath, and then continued to rant in her corner. "Spiteful students spread nasty rumors; do you think I'm deaf, insensitive, blind, or _stupid_? I am none of the above, you arrogant brats, and I'm up to your tricks. Don't take me as a gullible dimwit, nor an idiot, for I am neither!"

"You could have easily fooled us," Ron grumbled, "especially with you jumping whenever someone comes within four feet of you." He turned to Harry and sighed. "You _were_ right about her; I've never seen a woman _this_ dotty before."

"I AM NOT DOTTY!" Loxias yowled angrily, waving her fists. It reminded the boys of Lewn to watch her; her cleavage was just as appealing, even if it _was_ covered by a turtleneck sweater. "I am not easily fooled by you nincompoops. I _know_ you're up to something, and at least one of you wants me dead!"

"You didn't need to be a genius to figure that one out," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Let me guess…is it _me_?"

"Yes! Yes, it is you that wants to get rid of me!" Loxias wailed. "Please, if you get the Slayers away from me, I'll cooperate and never give you trouble again!" She was beginning to cry, but Harry would have none of it.

The urge overcame his reasons not to do so as Harry reached inside his pocket. He pulled out the small compact with the make-up mirror inside. "You know what this is, don't you?" Loxias looked outraged, and her face was beginning to ooze out small, syrupy streams of dark brown fluid from the corners of her eyes, her nose, and a small gap in her mouth. "What the—"

Loxias let out a very loud, eardrum-bursting shriek that shattered six windows in the hall. Footsteps could be heard; people were coming up the stairs to see what was going on. Twenty seconds later, Cyanis was up there with Snape and McGonagall, his crucifix prominently displayed. This was not the reinforcements Loxias had desired; Harry could tell simply by looking at the glare of disappointment in those pale, smoky-green eyes underneath the trapezoidal thin-wire glasses. "Potter, you're going to want to move," said Snape. "Loxias is about to crash from Slayers' Pressure. It's something that possessive lamiae do when several Slayers surround them. Watch, but don't do anything stupid."

The dainty face of the Alchemy teacher began to melt off, as with a strong acid or base, and every piece of skin seemed to drip off with the ooze. It was disgusting, and everyone expected to see Loxias fall to the ground, dead. They were disappointed, but still very surprised, to see that she hadn't died, but didn't resemble Constanza Loxias-Quirrell anymore. Instead, her skin had become tan, she had somehow gotten taller, her hair had turned blonde, and her face was completely different. "Okay, so you caught me. There's no such woman as Constanza Loxias; I'm an impostor, but I _am_ Loxias." She tried to get out again, but only Rick seemed to be weakening to her.

"Varinia Loxias," said Harry. "I've heard of you." He opened up the mirror and said, "You _know _of what—or rather who—is in here, since it was your fault this happened."

"Oh my," Malfoy said, sneering. "I didn't know you carried a make-up mirror with you, Potter. Is there something you're trying to tell us?"

"Shut up," Harry snapped at Malfoy. "I'll deal with you later—"

"You're a Slayer too!" Cyanis asked Harry. In exasperation, Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a 'no,' but still…"

"Why are you still here?" Harry was very confused. "Weren't you exposed as a Death Eater when _Parenein_ died?"

"The Ministry of Magic has put me on probation, but I've still got my job," Cyanis spat. "I can't believe Icarus would be stupid enough to put me in his bloody diary!" He pointed a large finger at Harry and bared his sharp teeth. "You would be wise to keep your mouth shut about matters that you don't understand."

"Cain," Snape intruded, getting closer to the Hypnosis teacher. "We all know that you're one; you helped Julius put me away, and I don't remember that experience fondly. It would be my pleasure to see you locked up in Azkaban until the end of your natural life." He then pulled out the white incense burner Loxias had kept in her classroom. "Only weaker lamiae need these, Varinia. Are you one of the underclass?"

"No," Loxias said defensively. The dark substance was still oozing out of the far corners of her eyes. "Let me see it."

"You need to breathe in the incense to keep the form of your body in tact," Snape said, tossing the incense burner to Malfoy. "I know all about you and the rest of the lower lamiae. It's not the first time I've seen a white burner like that one." He looked again at Malfoy and mouthed the words, "_Destroy it_."

"Gladly," Malfoy answered, laughing a bit. He looked at Loxias and said, "I never liked you, anyway, you cold-hearted bitch."

"Give me the burner!" wailed Loxia.

"No," Malfoy sneered. "I'll simply do…_this_." He went to one of the windows Loxias had broken with her scream and tossed the burner outside. A second later, there was an unmistakable crash. The red smoke Harry had seen a few times before flew back up to the hallway and surrounded Loxias. "Wait a minute…what's going on?"

Loxias's currently-blue eyes had gone red from the ingestion, and her body seemed to decompose very rapidly. "NO!" she howled in anguish. "This is the end of me!" She looked around, trying to find anyone to help her, but it was to no avail. Eventually, she rotted to death, and even her bones disintegrated. It was a very unappealing sight, and Ron had to rush to the boy's bathroom to lose his breakfast. The red smoke was all that was left of her, and it now became apparent as to what it did; when it wasn't confined to the burner, it would kill.

"Look out!" McGonagall shouted. "Severus, it's heading this way at full speed—"

"Minerva, get out of the way!" Snape shouted. "It's approaching, and I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't want to hire any _more_ new teachers than necessary." He pulled out his wand and muttered, "I can handle the last breath of a lamia. I've done so before."

"You're _not_ a Slayer, Severus," Cyanis barked. "You never were, and unless you were tutored in Azkaban, which I doubt, you still aren't a Slayer. Don't get disillusioned and think you can handle something you can't—"

"I know how to overpower it," Snape interrupted. He pulled out his wand and shouted as loudly as he could, "_Evanesca!_" The red smoke gathered up into a small form, and fell to the ground, as if it had become a solid. Snape bent over to pick up the red sphere left on the floor, and placed it in his pocket very casually.

"What was _that_?" Hermione asked, curious.

"This lethal substance can be used in certain Potions," Snape answered. "It's hard to acquire these days, so I'm sure I could make a nice profit from what is left of Varinia Loxias." He then looked at Hermione and said, "Granger, there is one thing that could get her stuck inside another body, and that would be to ingest the sphere without buffer ingredients added." He walked off, patting his pocket, and with a skip in his step.

"Now what?" Marcus said. "That's the _second_ Hawkbane of mine that turned out to be evil!" He looked at his friends and groaned. "Perhaps I'm just having a bad year. Last year wasn't so bad, but this year hasn't been a bed of roses."

"If it _was_ a bed of roses, you'd have been pricked by now," Cyanis said coldly. "Cantarus, Professor Furrier needs to have a word with you, Potter and Fenrir."

Naomi asked, "Why? Does he want to talk to us? He hates student conversations; he said so himself in the lectures."

"Go talk to Furrier and find out for yourself; I hate being the messenger boy, and I have no intentions of running all over the school with my bad legs." Cyanis looked at Harry with his scarlet eye (he now had an eye-patch over the one with the cataract) and glared. "And I'm daring you to continue calling me a Death Eater. Do you believe _everything_ that people tell you? If so, you're too gullible for your own good. If you disbelieve everything, you're narrow-minded, which could also be bad. Be somewhere in-between."

"Now, why would you care?" inquired Harry. "You don't think about me one way or the other; my beliefs are none of your business, anyway. I don't need to believe everything _you_ tell me. I will believe whatever evidence I can find against you, though. Take Parenein's journal, for example—"

"You never read it," Cyanis said, laughing. "You're such a dolt, Potter." He walked off, a raspy guffaw coming from his loud, boisterous voice. After he had walked nearly half a mile away, his laugh could still be heard mildly echoing off the walls.

"I'm glad that's the last we'll be seeing of Loxias," said Ron. "We all knew something was wrong with her, but I guess only a few of us knew how to distinguish a lamia." He looked at the sight again and groaned. "Wait until we cover this in Defense Against the Dark Arts…"

"Maybe this is a sign of some sort," Rick theorized. "Perhaps the Hawkbane program never should have come into existence. There's nothing wrong with ordinary classes, after all; some of these subjects taught were borderline Dark Arts. I'm sure it was only an experiment, but honestly, how many of us would have thought of having a _Curses & Rootwork_ class?" He held up his hand and said, "I _don't_ like Skylarke! All who agree please raise your hand and say 'Aye,' all right?"

"AYE!" shouted almost everybody. Malfoy, Marcus, Josh, Atticus, Celia, Ron, Lisa, Isis, Naomi, and Hermione all raised their hands. Harry found that he and Rhianna were the only people left in the Hawkbane program who favored the Curses & Rootwork teacher. It was very disappointing. "Skylarke must be fired!" shouted Lisa. "We have _got_ to do something!" She looked into the student mob and asked half-heartedly. "Well, are there any takers on ideas?"

"I've got one!" Hermione said, "but it's not one I'd share with somebody like you, Lisa."

"You're nutters," Lisa drawled. She looked at the students and said, "Down with Skylarke! He has led Dumbledore and the teachers astray, telling them lies about there being a gorgonix running wild on our school campus. It's just a cock-and-bull story he concocted so he could do the murders himself and have a legit scapegoat. Isn't saying it's a gorgonix sort of like saying _The Devil Made Me Do It_? If there truly was a gorgonix, then we'd be seeing a lot more statues on the grounds, wouldn't we? It doesn't make sense, any way you look at it, except to draw the correct conclusion that Mortimer Ebenezer Skylarke is nothing more than a Death Eater, a liar, and a murdering bastard! We have lost our brothers and sisters in Hawkbane to this man, if you can call him that. My fellow Hawkbane students, listen to what I say, and listen well. Our time has come to rise above it all. The Slayers Renaissance has finally reached Hogwarts, and it is time for us to set our plan into motion!" At that moment, the bell rang. Lisa rolled her eyes and grumbled. "Well, maybe we can begin after second period…"

Harry had never been happier to enter Potions. It was a great chance to see his friends that _weren't_ in the Hawkbane program, even if it meant having to put up with Snape for a couple of hours in the Dungeon. All of the talk of the Slayers Renaissance was beginning to bother him. It had been mentioned only once or twice a few days earlier, but it was everywhere today, for some odd reason. "Perhaps it's just another stupid fad," said Ron. "I'm only in it because Celia believes in the Power of the Slayer, and because Marcus made it seem so appealing."

"I actually agree with most of the Doctrine," Hermione added. "The part on vampires—"

"Granger, are you talking to Potter and Weasley back there?" Snape snarled. On his desk was the red sphere; the remnants of Varinia Loxias. "Five points from Gryffindor. You should be paying attention to the directions I have left you on the blackboard instead of engaging in useless conversation. We are finishing up our Rejuvenation Tonic today. Somebody up here really needs a good sample, and I'm too busy with the Defense Against the Dark Arts job to make it personally."

"Will the person with the best sample get a few bonus points added to their House?" asked Marcus, raising his head up from the smell of cat liver and nutmeg.

"If that person is in Slytherin," Snape answered honestly. A wicked smile appeared on his wan face. It was easy to notice that his skin was a lot paler than his teeth. "If it's a Gryffindor, they'll probably be the only one in their House to get an 'O' on their Potions daily grade. Gryffindors tend to do poorly in my classes."

"Let's see," Harry whispered to Ron, "would it have anything to do with the fact that he is constantly torturing us?"

"Potter, I'll see you and Weasley _both_ for detention—"

"I haven't even paid off all my detentions for the time with the Epsom salt—"

"It's not an option, Potter; you can add one more detention to the list," Snape was in a very happy mood, and it was far too easy for Harry to see that. The smile on the teacher's thin lips was very repugnant, and so was his horrendous breath. Harry wanted out of here, but he knew that he still had a bit less than two hours to go. "You are partnered with Cantarus today. Get to work."

Harry didn't argue with Snape; he'd rather be paired with Marcus instead of Malfoy. "There's something I want to ask you about," Marcus whispered. "Don't worry; it doesn't have to deal with the Slayers Renaissance."

"Well, _that's_ a relief," Harry said curtly. "I'm tired of hearing about Slayers every waking moment. Why the sudden urge, Marcus? None of this extravaganza was here yesterday."

"Snape got a guest speaker to talk to us in the Slytherin Common Room last night. It was Ebonyste's older brother Polaris, and he had a lot to say about the matter. Polaris Ebonyste owns a popular clothing store in Hogsmeade, and he's a strong supporter of the Doctrine. He made the life of a successful Slayer sound so appealing. Now everyone in Slytherin's interested, and it seems that the popularity spread overnight. Some of us have dates or friends in other Houses that also saw the light, so it caught on very quickly. The last time the Slayers were so popular at Hogwarts was when Ahsimal had to temporarily resign from his Necromancy job. Maybe this time we can get him to leave permanently; I'm being wishful."

"Marcus," Harry said, confused. "I thought you hated Ebonyste."

"I dislike _Adonis_ Ebonyste, but I have nothing against his half-brother," Marcus said. "When I was really little, Polaris used to babysit me." He then let out a long yawn. "Well, enough about that subject; it isn't what I needed to tell you. There is something I must say to you, and you better not go around telling anybody. I am trusting you with one of my deepest, darkest secrets." The look on the Slytherin's face was one that Harry could tell was overpowered by fright.

"Well…?" Harry was beginning to get impatient with his friend. "What did you want to tell me? You made such a big deal about it, and now you're not going to say anything?" Marcus's brow began to drip with sweat. A drop or two fell into the cauldron with the potion, turning it a fungus orange instead of the silky black it was supposed to be.

"Look, Harry, I saw something a month or so ago that spooked me terribly," Marcus admitted. "I try to act so tough in my classes and around other students, but sometimes fear will take over. Don't tell anybody this unless it's necessary—I don't want anybody to panic—but I saw Wolfe's murder with my own eyes. It _was_ Parenein, Cyanis, my dad, Lewn, and Ebonyste."

"Are you sure it was _Lewn_?" Harry was quite surprised, but continued to whisper. Seeing the orange gunk in the cauldron, he decided that (since they were going to get a bad grade anyway) he'd try spicing it up. He threw in two cloves of garlic, a chopped tulip bulb, a rat heart, and a few teaspoons of rosemary to see what would happen. As the cauldron's contents began to sink into the substance, he turned back toward Marcus, waiting to hear more about this grisly tale.

"There is no way in Heaven or Hell that it could have been anyone else," Marcus stated. "Honestly, Harry; who else in this school, that was here when Wolfe was, had breasts that big and a nice waist to go along with it? I'm sure that Umbridge had a double-D as well, but she wasn't thin like that. Besides, I could smell that funky perfume Lewn always wore; nobody else at Hogwarts had the pungent aroma of red wine and cinnamon wherever she went. Besides, I saw it happen; I could see their faces _clearly_!"

"What were you doing up?" asked Harry. "It just seems sort of odd that you saw it happen when it was so late in the night. I thought that you were the type that never uses the Hawkbane card to go wandering around the school at late hours."

"Then you don't know me as well as you first thought." Marcus answered, "I was up for a midnight snack; I'm a constant for the house elves in the kitchen. On my way over there, I couldn't help but notice Wolfe was talking to Parenein, Ebonyste, Lewn, Cyanis, and Dad—whom I had mistaken for Snape at the time—about the Fountain of Youth and the Mirrors of Macedethe."

Harry's eyes were wide open; Marcus had his full attention. "Wolfe went on to say that items such as those should not be placed in the wrong hands—that means somebody like Lewn—and should be put in the Department of Relics at the Ministry of Magic. Now, Lewn didn't like the sound of that option, so she began to attack Wolfe with curses. Soon, Parenein, Cyanis and my dad joined-in with Lewn. It took Ebonyste a while—for a few minutes, he just watched and fidgeted around—and I'm not quite sure what he did; I think he just watched them strangle poor Wolfe to death." He then let out a sigh. "I fooled you into thinking I believed the suicide lie at the funeral when I was sitting with my mum, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Harry said. He didn't find Marcus's sense of dark humor funny in the least. "You're a good actor, just like your dad." The last four words were said venomously. Hatred was the only sense that Harry felt toward Mortius, or any fanatical servant of Voldemort for that matter. "Never do that again."

"That won't be a problem," Marcus said. "Mum sent me a letter the other day to say that she's not going to be around much longer. Dr. Acheron gave her no more than two months to live, and he says that she won't be around for my birthday. More's the pity, but now I can finally move in with my Uncle Cassius. He's been trying to get custody of me for years."

"Cantarus, is Potter distracting you?"

Marcus looked up at the Potions Master and said politely, "No, Professor Snape."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'd hate to have Gryffindor lose even _more_ points."

"It's not a problem," Marcus said grimly. "Slytherin's in the lead, anyway. What do you think Furrier needs to see Naomi and us for?"

"I honestly don't have a clue," Harry admitted.

He looked into the cauldron to see that the orange mush had become a smooth black liquid, just like everybody else's. Gazing upon the next direction, Harry continued to test the substance by sticking a dead patchouli leaf into the potion. If done horribly wrong, the leaf was supposed to disintegrate into the cauldron, but if done correctly, it would become young and fresh. Crossing his fingers in his right hand, he threw the patchouli leaf into the concoction, knowing that he was doomed to get a 'T.' Much to his surprise, it became green, juicy, and completely rejuvenated; it was hard to believe it was the same crinkly brown disaster-of-a-leaf he had thrown in.

"Marcus," he said. "I think that we're going to be the group that gets the 'O.'" Marcus leaned over to look at the leaf, and smiled excitedly. "I don't think we're in trouble this time."

Proud of his accomplishment for the day in Potions, Harry filled a flask with a sample and gave it to Snape. "This is your group?" Snape inquired.

"Yes," Harry said flatly. "It worked just fine over in the cauldron." Just to make sure Harry wasn't lying to him, Snape dipped another dead patchouli leaf into the flask to see what would happen. It was fresh as well.

"Well, it seems that you and Cantarus will be getting an 'O' for today's work," Snape said coldly. "You probably watched Cantarus fix this potion. What a shame you'll be getting a grade you didn't deserve—"

"I had to fix the mistake Marcus made," Harry corrected Snape. "He accidentally sweated in the cauldron, so I had to improvise. It turned out okay, though; we got an 'O' anyway." Before Snape had time to revoke the grade, Harry walked back over toward Marcus. "I guess we sit here and simply wait for everyone else to finish."

After Potions was concluded for the day, Harry had to see Furrier for Clairvoyancy. The Hawkbane students were making a big fuss to get front-row seats for no particular reason. Not wanting to be a part of the seating frenzy, Harry opted for a seat in the back. Furrier didn't like him; he didn't find himself wanting to befriend the cat, anyway.

"I find Pyromancy to be a wonderful subject," Hermione said smoothly, sitting next to Harry. "Ron, what's your opinion?"

Ron, sitting in front of Harry, yawned. "It's boring; Furrier lacks Nezura's charisma. I'm just glad that Furrier won't be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, even though it's a drag that _Snape_ is in there until Dumbledore finds somebody better. That can't be _too_ hard of a search!" A broad smile found its way to Ron's face; a mischievous thought had reached his mind. "What if Dumbledore hired another werewolf?" His mind was racing. "Or, perhaps he got another lamia, or a vampire, maybe even a Type B gore crow…"

"Don't be gross," Hermione said. "Gore crows are nasty, no matter _how_ you look at them!"

"Sorry, but I have to agree with Hermione," Harry said, laughing. "I just hope we get someone like Lupin or Nezura. I don't think Hogwarts could take another person like Umbridge or Lockhart." As soon as he had said the word 'Lockhart,' Hermione's face went pink, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Our Second Year Defense Against the Dark Arts class was nothing short of a sick joke." At that instant, the door creaked open.

"Here comes Furrier; act as if you're ready for class," said Hermione. She handed Harry and Ron each a red candle. "We need these for today's lesson."

Harry looked to see Furrier enter, but something was different; Alexander Furrier wasn't a cat anymore, but _human_. "Did you bring your candles?" Furrier asked the students. "Go around the room to light them; no electric lights will be used in here today. You notice that I did not keep a lot of Claire's material in this room. I sent most of it to the Department of Relics, so the Ministry of Magic could protect the items that had once been in her possession. Claire was the discoverer of the Fountain of Youth, as you already know."

"Did it go to the Department of Relics?" asked Isis.

"No," Furrier said, shrugging his shoulders (Harry still couldn't get over the fact that Furrier's hair still resembled his fur coat). "Dumbledore has placed it in a restricted area in the building. Only Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and Ahsimal have access to it. Now, I disagree with letting somebody as treacherous as either Severus Snape or Darius Ahsimal near something so powerful, but my vote doesn't count as much as Darius's, simply because he's the head of the Hawkbane Society. A word to you students; he's not popular with the other teachers. None of the members in the Society fully agree with having a vampire in charge. He's proven himself to be dangerous before, so nothing's stopping him from harming people for the third time this century." Hermione had her hand raised up in the air. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor Furrier, I couldn't help but notice that you no longer are affected by that hex Quirrell placed on you. How did you manage to get it off?"

"Well, Miss Granger," Furrier said, smiling. "It's my little secret about how I got the hex removed, and I will not be sharing the secret with anyone…not even my sponsored students." Celia didn't seem very thrilled with that news, and neither did Rick and Atticus. "Let's just say that I can go from cat to man, or vice-versa, in five seconds without any problem." He pulled out a thin, red candle and lit it. "Will everyone please follow my example? Light your candles, and then concentrate on the rhythm of the flames."

Harry and Ron got Hermione to light their candles, and waited for the next direction. As the flame began to let off a bit of smoke at the tip, Harry couldn't help but smell the various aromas of rosehips, raspberries, strawberries, apples, red pepper, cinnamon, and cherries. The room was filled with numerous scents, and after everyone was lit, it was almost overwhelming. "Are we ready to get to the exciting part?" Furrier asked.

"YES!" everyone shouted.

"Let's begin!" Josh shouted. "I'm ready, and so is everybody else!"

Furrier nodded and then let out a purr-like sound of satisfaction. "Okay. The incantation is _Argentignus_. After muttering the spell, simply watch your flames to see what happens. You will get to see what is in store for somebody, whether they are sitting next to you, or are on the other side of the planet, or have already crossed over into the afterlife." He looked at his holly candle and pulled out his wand. _"Argentignus!"_ After the incantation was muttered, Furrier gazed into the flame, which had turned a dark silver color. His concentration wasn't broken until he looked up to the class.

"In this form of Pyromancy, it is very hard for you to see whom you want to see, but it can be done in a more advanced form. If you wanted to spy on your cheating girlfriend, for example, and instead saw what the house elves are cooking for dinner, don't be discouraged. If done correctly, I can guarantee that you'll see _something_. Now, on the count of three; one, two, _three_!"

All the students pointed their wands at their candles and shouted the spell at the same time. _"ARGENTIGNUS!"_ The flames all turned into silvery wisps. "Okay," Furrier said. "It's time you begin to concentrate on the fire. Everyone! Be silent so no distractions can be made."

Harry gazed into the candle flame, wondering whom he would see shortly. At first, it was only wisps of silvery fire, nobody's image could be seen, and then he could see it…Voldemort. Since it was so quiet in the room, Harry wondered if other people could hear the sound echoing from his candle; it seemed so loud. His scar was hurting hellishly, and the vision in the flames seemed to become real. Wicked laughter rang through Harry's ears, and it seemed that there was no possible escape, no matter where he went. Voldemort's high-pitched, cold voice was everywhere. Nobody bothered to look up; they were fixed to their own candles. Not a single person was going to help. It then became clear that Voldemort wasn't alone; somebody was in his company, and it wasn't a Death Eater, as far as Harry knew. His jaw dropped when he saw that it was none other than Lupin. At the sight of his friend, his eyes widened; Lupin was alive! However, he didn't look very happy; chains were around Lupin's wrists and ankles. It was apparent that he was chained to a stone wall and Voldemort was holding him as a prisoner. Suddenly, Voldemort turned to face Harry from inside the flames, and began to reach for him with a fire-covered hand—

"POTTER!" Furrier shouted loudly and rushed over toward Harry. He blew out the candle as quickly as possible, and looked at the confused Gryffindor. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Harry said. "What was that for?"

"You were facing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named through the candle. I cannot have that going in my Clairvoyancy classroom. I feared for your safety, okay? I don't hate you."

Harry looked into Furrier's amber eyes and said, "You could have fooled me; you looked upon me with disgust when you were stuck as a cat."

"That was simply because I _was_ stuck as a cat and _you_ had destroyed my only chance of returning to normal. I took it out on you instead of Quirrell only because you were available to harp at, and he was six-feet-under." Furrier laughed merrily. "It was nothing personal."

Harry rolled his eyes and let out a small, short laugh. "Oh, okay." A thought crawled into his mind instantaneously and he couldn't shake it out. "I was wondering…why do you want to talk to Marcus, Naomi, and me some time today?"

"I might as well get them over here as well," Furrier mumbled. "You see, Potter, your grades are not good enough to keep you in the Hawkbane program. Marcus Cantarus is only doing well in Alchemy, and his _other_ Hawkbane grades have begun to slip. Naomi Fenrir doesn't have what it takes; I think that poor Naomi is the Fenrir family idiot. Sure, she's sweet, but she's not all that bright. You're doing excellent in Necromancy, but no other Hawkbane course. Therefore, Fenrir is being kicked out of Hawkbane altogether, and both you and Cantarus will be able to take only the Hawkbane course that you are doing exceptionally well in."

Harry felt like his heart was going to burst. Was he really going to be kicked out of the Hawkbane program? "Are you joking? Am I really going to be cut out?"

"At this rate, you might," Furrier said. "Fenrir's out, and it is up to Professor Ahsimal whether or not you and Cantarus may stay in the program. I'm not in charge of that department. However, I felt that I should give you a fair warning as to your unsatisfactory performance." He then looked at Harry sharply and asked, "When you saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, did you, by any chance, happen to see where he was located?"

"No," Harry answered truthfully, "but Lupin was there with him, chained to a wall."

"You know that Remus J. Lupin is dead," Furrier said in an uncertain tone. "If Darius had brought him back to life, I believe I would have known about it. There's even a rumor that Darius was the killer; did you know _that_?"

"Yeah, I knew about that," Harry said, not completely sure of what point Furrier was trying to make. "Darius didn't do it. There's too much evidence to support his innocence to make him the killer. Besides, Mitzi Nezura is working on the case over in Canada."

"I hope she finds something," Furrier said. "I want to know who killed such a friendly guy. When we had Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, it was a good year, even though Sirius Black was a constant threat." He let out a catlike yawn and said to the students, "Well, now it's time for you to discuss your visions with your friends. Class will be dismissed shortly."

Everybody packed up their books and began to prepare for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unhappy that he would be seeing Snape's unpleasant face again for the second time that day, Harry shoved his Clairvoyancy and You book into his bag.

The walk from Clairvoyancy to Defense Against the Dark Arts only involved going up a couple of staircases, so it wasn't a long walk. Nonetheless, everyone was tired by the time they entered. Snape had made himself quite at home in Turret Eight. A whole pile of Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock books were on his cherry-wood desk, along with a human skull, a filthy-looking lamp, and Loxias's old hunk of pyrite. None of the lights were on in the room, except a lantern that was glowing green; Harry recognized it as the same one that Cassandra had used when going up to the Aerie a couple of times. Snape pulled back the drapes quickly when he noticed students were arriving. "Defense Against the Dark Arts will begin shortly," he said coldly.

Harry looked closer to see that the thing that was making the green light inside the lantern was nothing more than a trapped leaf fairy. '_I wonder how Ebonyste would feel about that_,' he thought, sniggering. Once he was done looking around the room to see what other changes Snape had made, Harry sat in his seat and pulled out How to Prepare Yourself for What's Surely Coming. Every other Gryffindor and Slytherin student did the same. Like always, Cassandra's seat was empty; the classroom had a much different aura, rather than the one it was supposed to have.

"Are you going to _permanently_ teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Unfortunately not," Snape answered. "I'll be stuck with Potions again by next week." He let out a long, heavy sigh and took a few pictures of the classroom with a camera. "I'll take a couple of snapshots to remind myself of how this class would look if I were truly in charge. Potter, I most certainly hope you're not going to give me any trouble today."

"I wasn't planning on it," admitted Harry. "Actually, I was wondering if you were going to visit Cassandra any time soon."

"It's none of your business whether I choose to do that or not," spat Snape.

"Er," Harry said, "if you _are_ going to visit her, could you give her this?" He handed Snape a letter he had written addressed to Cassandra. It was a personal note, but it also had his full testimony of what happened the night Parenein died. Perhaps it would free his friend.

"Why don't _you_ give it to her?" Snape hissed back. "I'm not your delivery boy, Potter. You probably already know where Azkaban is; I'm sure Sirius told you." When the word 'Sirius' came out of Snape's mouth, a look of pure hatred had appeared on his face, and the word had been uttered with a mocking tone. "On the next Hogsmeade trip, I suggest you ask Dumbledore if you can go with a teacher to Azkaban, and I'll pray that you don't come out."

"I can't believe you never visit your own niece," said Harry. "How heartless _are_ you?"

"It's none of your business, but Darius and I _do_ visit Cassandra every Friday, which is more than Claudius _ever_ does," Snape snarled. "I think I'll gather up all these detentions you have to do for me and simply put them all together for one entire Sunday. I know that you have to devote an hour to Lucinda on Saturdays—"

Harry blurted, "I want to switch Hawkbanes."

"What do you expect _me_ to do about that? I'm not part of the Society, and I'm most certainly not the person you need to talk to about that," barked Snape. "You'll have to do whatever I tell you to this coming-up Sunday. For now, though, I strongly urge you to reach your seat before the bell rings and I write you tardy. Don't bother me like this again, understand?"

"I understand perfectly well," Harry grumbled as he took his seat. "Hello, Ron."

"Hello, Harry," Ron said quietly. He looked a bit glum for some odd reason.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry. "I can tell something's bothering you."

"Oh, it's nothing much," Ron lied. "Celia broke up with me in Clairvoyancy, that's all." Even though he had said it was nothing, Harry could see that Ron was quite heartbroken.

"Well, there are always other girls," admitted Harry. "I'm over Cho already, for example."

"Yeah," Ron said, giving Harry a weak smile. "I think you had the hots for _Cassandra_."

"Shut up," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I most certainly did _not_ have the hots for her. She wasn't all that pretty, and I found certain things she did a bit disturbing." '_That's right_,' he thought; '_I've only viewed her as a friend and close ally_.' He turned to Ron and said, "That's about the same as me saying you have the hots for Luna." Ron quit laughing after Harry made that certain analogy.

"We are finished with our Possession unit," Snape said flatly to the students. "So, today, I will be giving you each a personal test. I had each student especially in mind as I made these, so it won't be too easy for some and too difficult for others. None of you have the same test. Therefore, Gryffindors, cheating won't save your grade this time. Pull out your ink and quill pens. As soon as your test hits your desk, you may begin. I will call your name out, and you will come up to my desk to receive _your_ test. After that, return to your seat. There will be no talking in here without consequence, and I'm sure none of you are stupid enough to _not_ know what I mean." Snape lazily sat there, calling out the names of Gryffindor and Slytherin students randomly.

When it was Harry's turn to see Snape for his test, he almost tripped on Malfoy's foot, which was in the aisle. He got the form, and noticed that his name was already put up at the top; **Harry Potter, Hawkbane/Gryffindor, Sixth Year**. The test was labeled as "Possession Unit Exam" and was ready for Harry to begin marking it up. A bit nervous, he dipped the tip of his quill pen into a bottle of ink and began his exam. The first question was an easy one; _name three ways to tell if a person is possessed by a hellion_. From page one to page six on the test, the questions were slightly challenging, but they weren't easy. The last one, however, had nothing to do with possession. Snape had asked a personal question; _How did someone with pathetic grades like yours wind up in the Hawkbane Program, Potter?_ Rolling his eyes at the unfairness of it all, Harry wrote back a one-word response (_Snitchgrass_) andfelt that it was the perfect answer. When he had first shaken hands with Cassandra and met her for the first time, she had told him that Snitchgrass was the only Hawkbane that looked entirely on talent and merit instead of a grade-point scale.

Tired of having to deal with Defense Against the Dark Arts in this manner, Harry put his test in Snape's grading basket. Afterwards, he waited on the people that hadn't finished to end their tests. Surprisingly, Neville was the next to finish; he seemed satisfied with how he had performed on the exam. Dean turned his paper in after Neville, and then went Blaise, Goyle, Hermione, Rhianna, Malfoy, Goyle, Ron, Seamus…

Snape managed somehow to have all the tests graded before class was dismissed. He got Malfoy to pass them back to their rightful owners. "Okay, class; read them and weep." And _weep_ was exactly what almost everyone ended up doing; three-quarters of the class had failed their tests.

"That was terrible," whined Hermione. "I got an 'E' on my test!"

Ron gave Hermione a hateful look "Quit complaining. My girlfriend broke up with me today, _and_ you did better on your test than I did. Be thankful for getting an 'E' on your test; I got nothing short of a 'P' on mine. Harry, what did you make?"

"I got a 'P,' as well, because I didn't write _complete sentences_," he said, laughing a bit. "Don't worry about it, Ron. If we pass our preN.E.W.T.s in late spring, then we'll do just fine." Harry smiled again a little and said, "Look on the bright side, though; we've got Curses & Rootwork for our final class today. Skylarke's friendly."

"I don't like Skylarke," Ron said curtly.

"Neither do I," said Hermione. "I'm so glad that we don't have to deal with Snape again until dinner. He gave me such a hard time with that bloody test! He gave me an E! A bloody E, for crying out loud!"

"We don't care, Hermione," Harry admitted. "You did better than us." He walked in to Curses & Rootwork, but it seemed that his friends, and none of the other students wanted to enter, except for Rhianna and Neville. "Why isn't anyone going to Curses & Footwork?"

"It's that whole Slayers Renaissance thing all over again," Rhianna grumbled. "Skylarke is a very unpopular figure with the Slayers. Therefore, students that aspire to become Slayers view Skylarke as their enemy. I know this because Blaise was into the Renaissance before it became today's fad. It'll stick for quite some time, this I'm sure of."

"Well," Neville said sadly. "Harry, it looks like it's just going to be you, Rhianna, and me with Professor Skylarke today—"

"I'm going in as well," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Even if I don't like Skylarke, I can't simply miss a class because I don't like the teacher."

"How did I know _she'd_ be coming in here with us?" Rhianna said irritably.

"I'm coming too," said Ron. "I think this Slayer thing is getting a bit out of hand. Although I don't like Skylarke, it doesn't mean I'm going to resort to skipping his class." He turned to Harry and said, "Personally, I loathe Snape more than Skylarke, but nobody seems to have that much of a problem with him, only Skylarke. He's never been too involved with anything brutal that I know about, but there's just something sort of odd about someone that hangs out with a gay vampire and Snape views as a friend."

"I agree with you, Ron," said Hermione. "Why do you like Skylarke, Harry? I thought you wouldn't agree with somebody that thinks like he does. Haven't you read his book?"

"No, I haven't read his book." Harry sighed. "He actually has one?"

"It's called Skylarke's Theory; Innovation in Sorcery," said Hermione. "It's a really thick book, too. For a whole week, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. He's an unnaturally persuasive and eloquent writer. A man like that is bound to be dangerous at one point or another. I wouldn't trust him."

"I like Skylarke," said Rhianna. "I think he's nice, and he respects us. Not too many of the teachers give us the respect I feel that we deserve, but Skylarke treats us like we're fully-fledged adults. Curses & Rootwork is a harsh subject that requires lots of attention, and he's helping us understand something we have _never_ covered. Honestly, you all sound like a bunch of little kids." She walked into the room and greeted the teacher. "Hello, Professor Skylarke!"

"Hello, Rhianna," said Skylarke. "Thank you for arriving to class. Only a small number of my students have even bothered to show up for class today. I know it's because there's a campaign that preaches I'm the gorgonix going all over the school, but I appreciate those that at least have a _little_ faith in me." Hermione and Ron trudged in, but said nothing to Skylarke.

Harry, however, went over to Skylarke's desk and said, "You might want to watch out; there's a group of psychotic Hawkbane students running about, shouting out that you're the devil himself." He knew he was exaggerating a little, but Skylarke wouldn't know that. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"We're covering a shielding spell today," Skylarke said drowsily. "I'm going to give you an example, write it up on the board, and let you experiment with it in class. It's so strange; I just get sleepier every day. I feel like I could just doze off and never wake up."

"Do you think you're not getting enough sleep?" asked Harry.

"That can't be it," Skylarke said. "Ever since I started feeling like this, back around Halloween, I've been going to sleep at earlier hours and waking up later. I'm getting more sleep than the normal man should, and I _still_ feel like I'm about to fall over." He let out a yawn, but covered it up with his gloved hands. He waved his wand and the notes appeared on the board. "I'll go ahead and show you how to do this shielding spell."

"Which one?" countered Hermione, "There are lots of shielding spells."

"_Magarus Nistenia,"_ Skylarke chanted, and a gold dome formed around him. "Go ahead and hit me with whatever spell comes to mind. Let's see if it can penetrate my shield."

"_Laconus Anata!"_ shouted Ron. Nothing happened to Skylarke. The spell got caught up in the dome and didn't do anything. "What the—"

"Watch this next part," Skylarke said. _"Ricochaise!"_ The spell bounced back and the Laconus Curse hit Ron with a full blast. "You can send a spell back to the sender if you are in the dome. Also, your spells can go out, but others cannot go in. You can get out, but nobody else may come in. The Magarus Nistenia is a wonderful advantage if you're inside it, but frustrating if you're outside of it, as Ron just clearly showed us." Ron grumbled and began to make croak sounds; he'd been turned into a frog. _"Laconus Prioritum_,_"_ Skylarke muttered, turning Ron back to his normal self. "Now, why don't one of you give the shielding spell a try?"

"I've got a question," said Hermione. "What would happen if both opponents were in their own separate shields? Would either of their attacks harm the other?"

"No, Hermione; it would do no damage," said Skylarke. "I found that one out the hard way when I was in a wizard's duel. Harry, your father challenged me, and—" He began to sway a little, and then collapsed to the floor with a loud, distinct _thud_. Hermione screamed in surprise.

Harry went over there to see if Skylarke was okay. Bending down to see if he had broken any bones on his way down, he checked Skylarke's pulse. There was none. "He's dead," he said. "I bet somebody poisoned him." He looked to see both Rhianna and Hermione had gone pale. "What are you standing about for? Someone go get Dumbledore!"

"I'll go get him," Ron said. "Poor Skylarke; I honestly didn't dislike him. I just thought he was a bit strange, honest. He wasn't a bad guy." With that, he rushed out of the room. Hermione ran after him, but Rhianna stayed in the room with Harry and Skylarke.

"Is he…is he really dead?" Rhianna stammered. "Please, Harry, tell me he's not dead."

"Do you want to check his pulse too?" Harry snapped. "Skylarke's dead."

The next few minutes seemed to pass by in some other dimension of time. All the students rushed into the room to see if it was true about Skylarke's death. The classroom was quickly overcrowded with spectators. Few were crying, but few were cheering. It seemed that everyone simply wanted to see the body to make sure that Skylarke had truly died. There was no pulse, no sign of warmth in his body, and he wasn't breathing. By the time Ron had gotten Dumbledore to the highest room in Turret Fifteen, Skylarke's body had gone stiff from rigor mortis. Darius and Snape looked absolutely horrified as they came in; Darius's eyes even got misty. "He can't be dead," Snape muttered in a voice filled with disbelief. "Potter, what happened in here?"

"Skylarke was showing us how to do a shielding spell, and had just gone into an anecdote about my dad challenging him in a duel, when he began to sway. After that, he fell to the ground, and everybody panicked. I checked to see if he had a pulse. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to get up, I sent Ron to find Dumbledore." Harry looked at Snape and was surprised to see a look of sheer misery etched on the face of the Potions Master. Snape's fists were clenched tightly, his sallow face had small etches of pink on it, he was biting his bottom lip, and his dark eyes were narrowed straight at Harry. "What?"

"You're responsible somehow," Snape spat. "There's no possible way that you couldn't be with that group of anti-Skylarke students. What did he _ever_ do to harm you? Just the other day, he was telling me that I should go easier on you because he felt you were a responsible young adult. Is this how you repay him, Potter? He saw potential in you, and all you saw in him was a monster—"

"Never!" Harry shouted. "I viewed Skylarke as a friend, and I would _never_ harm him. He was talking to my class one moment, and then the next thing I knew, he was dead." He gave Snape a hateful look and said, "It was like the time I lost Sirius!"

"Do you think I care about Black? If so, you're sadly mistaken," Snape said, his voice beginning to crack. "Potter, I swear, if you had anything to do with Morty's death, I will have my retribution. That I can guarantee with certainty."

Snape raised his sinewy fist to strike Harry, but Darius stopped him. "He's not responsible; didn't you hear him? Morty probably got in trouble because he made friends with me, a vampire. I saw the mob of kids in the hall earlier—I couldn't miss them because they chased me before they attacked Loxias—and Harry wasn't with them. Severus, we _will _find out who's responsible." With that, the Necromancy and Potions professors walked off and helped carry Skylarke's corpse. "Headmaster, I wish to have rights to Morty's body. Is my request granted, since no family of his is able to object?"

"You have permission, Darius," said Dumbledore. "Harry, how did Professor Skylarke look when he succumbed?"

"He looked as if he had merely fainted, and hit the floor backwards. I believe he was dead before he finished collapsing." Harry couldn't help it; his face had gone wet.

Snape and Darius put Skylarke onto a stretcher, and carried him off to the Necromancy classroom. "This isn't over," Snape muttered. Harry looked behind to see that not only did they have Skylarke with them, but Snape also had a crow perched on his shoulder.

People still crowded around in Turret Fifteen. "Will there be a funeral for Mortimer, Headmaster?" asked McGonagall.

"No, Minerva. Mortimer will be teaching again in a week's time," said Dumbledore. "Darius is a highly-skilled Necromancer and will be able to Resurrect our Curses & Rootwork professor in no time. Let us give him a small amount of time to recover, though. According to Antony LeBlanc and Sinead McDougal, the Deans of LéAvíans and Lazulien University, this has happened to Mortimer before a few times. He seems to be the kind easily associated with Death, yet can be returned to life very easily. There is nothing to fear." He turned toward Harry. "You did the right thing by sending Ron to my office to inform me of this. You've saved Professor Skylarke's life, Harry."

Harry wasn't listening to a word of this. He was trying to piece together what had just happened. Would Skylarke truly be alright? Off in the corner of the classroom, Skylarke's office door was open. Curious to see what was in there, Harry peered in. His crystal ball was sitting there, still glowing eerily, a pack of Tarot cards were scattered over the table top, a photo album was wide open, and a miniature fountain was running on his desk. However, the water had turned into crimson blood.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty:

Another Piece of Mortimer Skylarke

"Did he really _die_ in there?" Josh asked Harry at dinner. "I heard that Skylarke is dead."

"He'll be back on his feet in a week," Harry said. "Don't worry about him."

"I wasn't worrying about _him_," Josh said. "I was worried about him _returning_." He held Celia's hand. "Look, Celia, what if he comes back?"

"What do you mean '_if_' he comes back? There's no possible way that he'll stay dead. From what Gramps told me, Skylarke simply had a horrid fainting spell and had to receive minor necromantic care." Celia groaned. "Something's just wrong here…I can't put my finger on it." She looked at her roast chicken and sighed heavily. "It's just not fair. Why is it that when Wolfe Leir died, we couldn't bring him back, yet Skylarke—which we fear might have the gorgonix in him—gets brought back almost immediately? I think Darius is in on it, and so is Snape!"

"It's because Skylarke doesn't have any family to get in the way like Wolfe did and, secondly, he's very good friends with Snape and Darius," Harry answered. "I'll be visiting him in the infirmary in a little bit. Ron, are you coming?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, "You put me through enough when _Cassandra_ was in there."

"I thought you said you didn't have anything against Skylarke," Harry said passively.

"I _don't_ have anything against him," corrected Ron, "but I don't _like_ him, either."

"He made me stick my hand in that ruddy Retribution Tonic," Josh grumbled. "I should have sued the school for that torture." He finished the rest of his chicken, sulking silently.

Harry got up quickly. "Well, I'm off to see if he's in the infirmary."

"Harry," Hermione fussed, "you didn't finish your meal."

"I lost my appetite," Harry said as he walked off. "I'll see you later—"

"Look out for Snape, okay?" Ron said. "He sounded like he wanted to murder you today."

"He wouldn't do it," Harry said confidently. "I'm the only person that has a chance to get rid of Voldemort, and we all know that, even Snape. If it's having either to face a Dark Lord or me, I'm sure that he'd settle with having me around. Besides, I didn't kill Skylarke. You know that."

He left the Great Hall and walked all the way down to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was in there, looking over a very pale little boy, and Skylarke was asleep in one of the beds, resting peacefully. He didn't have a corpse like appearance like he had only hours ago; color had returned to his face. Unlike when Cassandra had been in the infirmary, Skylarke was not in his pajamas or infirmary garb; he was still wearing his brown leather jacket, pants, gloves, and silk turtleneck. His glasses had been removed, as had his boots, but everything else was on, even his wool socks.

"Is he still asleep?" he asked Madame Pomfrey.

"Only at the moment," said Madame Pomfrey. "There's no telling when he's going to wake up. Feel free to stay in here until he does, though. If there's one thing that can raise Mortimer Skylarke's spirits, it's to see that at least one of his students cares enough to visit."

"It sounds like you know Skylarke pretty well," said Harry.

"I know Morty quite well, thank you," said Madame Pomfrey. "We took a Countercurses course together in college, and he was my group partner. Trust me; I know what makes him tick." She sighed and said, "After Severus and Darius brought him in here, I examined him immediately. After I saw what caused his near-death swoon, I must say I am quite amazed he's still around. There's no doubt about it. Your Curses & Rootwork teacher is quite a fighter, although he doesn't appear to be all that strong. There's more to him than first appears."

Harry looked even closer at Skylarke. Without his glasses, he seemed to be a much more handsome person. Gauntness and frailty seemed to be rampant in his brittle body, yet he looked as if there truly was some sort of inner power inside him…as if he was royalty. Suddenly, as if by some sort of enchantment, Skylarke moved and let out a sigh. His breath smelled strongly of myrrh.

"Professor Skylarke?" He could tell Skylarke was beginning to stir and would be fully awake soon.

Skylarke opened his olive-green eyes and looked at Harry. "You know, it's okay if you called me by my real name instead of a formality. Do you see me calling you Mr. Potter?"

After he thought about it, Harry realized that Skylarke had called him on a first-name basis ever since they had first engaged in a conversation. "So…I'm supposed to call you Mortimer?"

"You could if you wanted," Skylarke said, "however; my friends tend to call me Morty. I view you as a friend, by the way." A smirk had appeared on his face. He reached over to the night stand to grab his glasses. "I've got the rest of the week off, or so Dumbledore told me. Curses & Rootwork is cancelled until I get back, but I'm lodging with Severus. Darius offered, but since he likes guys, I didn't feel comfortable."

"And you feel comfortable rooming with Snape for a week?" Harry asked, confused. "I'd infer that he'd be worse."

"Not at all!" said Morty with his former energy. It had been a few weeks since he had been moving about with this type of stamina, but he simply appeared to be much livelier. "Severus and I have been close friends ever since we first met in Diagon Alley before my First Year. Need I say more? Severus is to me what Ron is to you."

"Nice analogy," said Harry. "How's Aurelius?"

"He's still hiding out in that dusty old classroom, bless him," Morty answered. "Each time I go in there to check on him, I pity him all the more. All he can do right now is sulk and wait for somebody to have his name cleared, which isn't going to happen any time soon, unfortunately."

Harry looked at what Morty had on the night stand along with his glasses case. A red book with an interesting title caught his attention; Autobiography by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. "I don't see the appeal," stated Harry. "I honestly can't understand how she got to be so popular."

"Perhaps it is because Dr. Hemlock dabbles about in the Dark Arts where others fear to do so, or maybe it's because she is such an eloquent writer and really knows how to attract an audience. Then again, it might have to do with the fact that she has been dubbed the contemporary Dark Arts Guru." Morty let out a small yawn and got up out of the infirmary bed. "I'm up for some tea. Dare to come along?"

"Sure," said Harry. "You recovered quickly."

"Yes," agreed Morty. "That, I did."

"Are we heading to the kitchen to visit the house elves?"

"I don't know about _visiting_ the house elves, but we are going to the kitchen. Is there any particular reason you'd want to talk to a house elf?"

"I've got a friend named Dobby—"

"You know Dobby too, eh?" Morty asked, and then sighed. "He's an oddball, that one. Friendly as anything, though. I must say that I have never met a nicer house elf."

After reaching the kitchen, Harry noticed that Luna was already down there, sipping on some hot chocolate with Dobby. "Thanks for the cocoa, Dobby," she said dreamily.

"It's not a problem, Miss," Dobby said. "Dobby likes to help out friends of Harry Potter's." Dobby suddenly became aware that Harry was in the room as well. "Harry Potter?" He rushed over there and hugged Harry's leg. "How are you doing? Dobby's missed you!"

"I've been doing okay," said Harry. "Morty almost died—no, wait; I think he _did_ die—earlier and scared the Hell out of me. Something is still trying to kill inside the school. Dobby, you and the other house elves should be on the look-out for anything unusual."

Dobby saluted Harry and smiled. "Yes, Harry Potter! Dobby will tell Winky and the others to watch for everything that comes in here!"

"Good idea," Luna said in a sleepy voice. "Harry, I found garlic in Skylarke's room."

"And…?" Harry trailed off, hoping Luna would finish.

"Is he a vampire?"

"No," Morty corrected quickly. "I'm not vampiric. However, that explains why Darius had a coughing spell when he passed by my room. It was a logical thing to infer, though, Luna."

Luna smiled. "You know, Skye, I think somebody out here is trying to kill you."

"Sadly, I think I'll have to agree with you," said Morty. "The question remains, though; why would anyone be interested in finishing me off for good?" He seemed to fall into a state of deep thought. "Could the reasons for my near-demise be the same as they were on the night your parents died, Harry? You had Voldemort at your home, while my family had to deal with a mob of Death Eaters."

"Flitwick's giving me a test in Charms tomorrow," Luna said, walking off. "I must study."

"Okay, Luna; take care. Morty, I don't know the whole story behind your family's homicide," said Harry. "What happened _exactly_? All I know is that Aurelius got blamed for it."

"It began with Míguel coming home from his Quidditch team for my birthday," Morty answered. "I was attending college to get my degree in Rootwork, Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes, over at Aevumis, in Salem. I arrived back to the family for a visit. Míguel was the only one welcomed with open arms, not me. Stella Piper was a Fourth Year up at Hogwarts, and wanted to transfer to Durmstrang. My aunt and uncle came, and brought their three daughters along with them. Their son, Nathan, came by himself, later on.

"I guess you could say that everyone that bore the name '_Skylarke_' came to Míguel's festivities. He was the crown jewel of my parents; he had _decent_ grades, wonderful athletic ability, always had a fan base, and had a wonderful skill with money. Stella Piper was the baby, so she got a lot of attention as well. I was nothing more than a disappointment and an embarrassment to the family. Míguel was going to be famous; he had been asked to play as a Chaser for the British National Quidditch team, and had accepted. Stella Piper was extraordinary with the Divinatory Arts, and got a lot of praise for her "fortune-telling" studies. I did what my ancestor would have approved of; I practiced the Dark Arts, and focused on _Curses_ in particular. If Circe could turn men into animals with potions, then I'd want to know how I could do that with my wand."

"There was no question about me being the smartest child out of the three—Stella Piper was breezy-brained, and Míguel was _average_, at best—but attention was something that I lacked. Evelyn, Diana, Olivia, and Nathan—my cousins—were over with my Aunt Mara and Uncle Cassius. Diana was boy-crazy, Nathan was arrogant like everyone else in the family only worse, I mistook Evelyn for a succubus a couple of times, and I never got a chance to find out exactly how Olivia acted. She was only four when the Death Eaters raided the Skylarke Manor."

"A friend of mine saved my life by dragging me out to the private woods, but I was the only Skylarke to survive. After this friend of mine felt that I was safe, he disapparated off the premises. Up until recently, I haven't seen a trace of him."

"Is that the whole story?" asked Harry.

"No," Morty said calmly. "Sorry to disappoint you. I was foolish and returned to the manor, expecting that at least one of my relatives had survived. What a mistake I made; they were sprawled out _everywhere_. The only thing that had been left alive was Archimedes, my owl, and he was pretty glad to see me. Just by looking at the corpses of my family, I realized that the Death Curse had been used on the children and the adults had slowly died from the Cruciatus Curse. For the first time, I felt entirely alone. Sure, I had been _left_ alone countless times, but I had a sense in me then that I can only say would be best-described as synonymous to isolation."

"I called out, hoping that somebody would answer and say he or she was okay. The only luck that came was _bad_ luck; five Death Eaters met up with me. If the circumstances had been right, I would have carried the gorgonix. I was a prime candidate, yet they couldn't seem to get the final ingredient needed to plant one of those demons inside me…a fraction of your soul."

Harry wasn't surprised. "I already knew that I was a part of the ritual."

"How did you…?" Morty began. "Never mind; I'm not even going to bother asking about it…after I succumbed to them, they maimed me pretty badly—"

"They _maimed _you!" Harry was not sure what to think of this. "You're lying."

"What incentive would I have in doing that?" asked Morty. "I believe you noticed that I am still in my normal garb and that Poppy didn't dress me up in infirmary attire. She did a good deed by keeping my gloves and socks on."

"Are you going to show Harry Potter what's wrong with you, Professor Skylarke?" asked Dobby. "Oooo, it is disgusting, Harry Potter. It is so disgusting that Dobby might need to bring you a puke bag…"

"Is your body mutilated or something?" asked Harry. "Morty, how bad _is_ it?"

"It's pretty gruesome," Morty answered calmly. "Disfigurement was only the beginning. I'll tell you the final part about what happened to the Skylarke family fifteen years ago after you take a look at what I have become." With that, he slowly began to pull off his left glove…

Harry felt like he was going to scream. Not only was Skylarke's hand horrifically mangled, but it was also _cadaverous_. Bone could be seen in some places, and the flesh was rotting away. The pewter ring was on his bony middle finger. "So…you're really dead?"

"_Rejuvenated corpse_ is the proper context," Morty said casually. "I didn't live long after the Death Eaters tortured me; I succumbed to the pain. Ten years after that, when you were a First Year, the good friend of mine decided to dig my corpse up and Resurrect me. The intentions were good, I must admit, but the Resurrection was botched; my friend was _not_ a good Necromancer. I should have gotten Darius to do it, but he was still Voldemort's second-in-charge at that time. How would it have looked to his master if he had brought back one of the enemies of the Death Eaters?"

"Who brought you back?" asked Harry.

"Do you really need to ask?" Morty retorted in a friendly voice. "It was Severus Snape. Ever since I got brought back from Death, I've been stuck this way. I could go around in robes like everyone else, but people would turn away from me in sheer disgust. Instead, I dress a bit eccentrically, simply so people will not know that I am nothing more than a rejuvenated corpse."

"That would explain why the gore crows went over to your room when Blaise and I were making them in Afterlight Necromancy!" Harry said, now piecing it together. "You told me that you were the only Skylarke left in the world of the living, but never said that you survived."

"Correct," Morty was smiling. "You have such a sharp mind, and you really know how to infer upon a soul's true temperament. Now you can understand why I find you so interesting. It's not because you're the Boy Who Lived, but rather that you're a person that I can somewhat relate to. I am sure that I'm nowhere near as powerful as you—I know a lot of stuff about Curses & Rootwork that I doubt Dumbledore knows about, but that's simply because I've got my Mage's Degree in it and specialized—but you and I both grew up in households where we were not appreciated."

"Put your glove back on, Professor Skylarke," whined Dobby. "Dobby's getting sick."

Morty obliged to the house elf's request. "Well, now you know," said Morty. "If you ever find out what really happened the night you were made an orphan, feel free to talk to me about it." He then handed Harry a pewter ring. "If I'm not mistaken, you told Aurelius that you wanted to attend a Nemesarium meeting so you could make your own opinion about our society. Don't put that ring on unless you decide to become a Nemesarist; it doesn't come off."

"In a sense, this is your rendition of a Dark Mark?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Morty. "The rings can only be seen by a few people—that's why we were surprised to find out that you could see them—and they usually tend to be the ones that decide that we have a good cause. We're not chivalrous men and women, and don't always do what is right, but we have our own way for everything. Like a true individual, we welcome the sinner as well as the saint. Nobody can be a completely good person, yet it is possible to be entirely evil." He sighed and said, "I guess you could say that we are not protagonists, but we are also not antagonists."

"You're somewhere in the middle," Harry added. "I can understand that; it makes sense."

"I may be the first Nemesarist, but I have no intentions of being the next Lord Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore. With all honesty, I can call myself a practitioner of the Grey Arts," Morty let out a small laugh. "Some of us have already gotten together to decide where and when our next meeting shall be. If you are interested in seeing what Nemesarium truly is like, I'll disclose this information with you."

"I'd like to make my own conclusions about a group that doesn't help the good side, but doesn't support the bad. To me, you're the neutral society…like Switzerland. You don't take a stand…_ever_. You watch things happen, and stick toward whomever's winning."

"Surely you're joking with me," Morty said, laughing. "We take stands sometimes, but prefer to remain in the shadows for anonymity reasons; it's a safety hazard." He walked even closer to Harry and said, "In case you were wondering, our next meeting will be held in my classroom in a week's time. You don't have to show up, but it would be greatly appreciated. Out of the few of us that still come to Nemesarium, only one opposes having you there."

"Let me guess," Harry said sarcastically, "is it Snape?"

"Yes," Morty said. "He's weighing the faults of a dead man onto the son, and I find that type of behavior a bit immature. Don't tell him I said that, but that is truly how I feel."

Changing the subject, Harry said, "I can tell you're feeling better."

"I have to agree with you," Morty said merrily. "I _feel_ like I could tackle almost anything. Harry, I'd like to know your opinion about this matter; do you consider me a colleague, or are you going to begrudge me simply because I am a friend to Severus?"

"There's no need to worry," Harry said calmly. "I view you as a friend, Morty. You and I are on the same side."

"Yes, that's right," Morty agreed. "I'm on your side, but I do not view Dumbledore as infallible. He's a powerful sorcerer, extremely clever, and quite understanding, but he has made a few mistakes that have proven him to be just as human as the rest of us. Take Quirrell, for example; didn't that guy turn out to have Voldemort on the back of his head? What about _letting_ Gilderoy Lockhart teach in your Second Year? If he is such a skilled Legilimens, then how is it that he couldn't foresee that the Mad-Eye Moody that taught you in your Fourth Year was an impostor, not to mention a loyal Death Eater?"

"Hermione was right about you being a persuasive speaker," said Harry.

"Professor Skylarke," said Madame Pomfrey, appearing behind the teacher and the student. "You need to head back to the Infirmary for a couple of days. Follow me."

"Fine," Morty grumbled. "Harry, I know that we're not supposed to have Curses & Rootwork again until Poppy thinks I've recovered from my little fall, but I would like to continue the class. Could you tell everyone to meet in the Library for our next class? We'll be going into the Restricted Section."

"I can do that," said Harry. "I hope you recover quickly, Morty." After the auburn man in leather left with the school Healer, Harry took a closer look at the ring that he had received. It was handcrafted from pewter, and had a globe of obsidian held up by skeletal figures. The ring was very well-made, and quite impressive, but the message it gave across was not a good one. Although Morty insisted Nemesarium had great intentions, Harry couldn't help but be a bit skeptical that _everything_ in that circle was something he wanted to dabble in. "So…Dobby…anything new?"

"Not really, Harry Potter," said Dobby. "A new house elf named Miffles came in earlier. She was happy to come to Hogwarts with her master."

"Who would that be?"

"He just left; it's Professor Pyrites," Dobby answered.

"Damn!" Harry grumbled. "Pyrites was in here?" Dobby nodded. "Look, Dobby, he's trouble, okay? You don't want to even go _near_ him."

"Now, why would Dobby want to stay away from Professor Pyrites?"

"Take my word for it," muttered Harry as he walked out the door. "He's trouble."

"You had a chat with _Skylarke_?" Ron asked, confused. "But, didn't he _die _earlier today?"

"I think he only got knocked out," Harry admitted. "I've got somebody that I want you to talk to. She knows more about Loxias than we did, and I'm sure that you'll see why when you get to look at her." At that, Harry pulled out the make-up compact and opened it up. "Stanzi, are you there?" She didn't show up; the mirror only reflected his face. "Come on; it's me. Where are you?" Still, no reply was given. "Stanzi?"

"Harry, are you going nutters?" said Hermione. "You're talking to a mirror."

"Loxias was an impostor. The real Constanza Quirrell died nine years ago. After talking to the woman stuck in here, I believe her when she said she's not another fake." Harry sighed. "Now, if only you two would believe me."

"If I could see her in there, I'd believe you," Hermione said flatly. "I need proof."

"Same over here," added Ron. "Seeing is believing, you know."

"I believe you," said Luna. "What did she look like?"

"Loxias, only younger, quite a bit more flat-chested, and a bit punked-out," answered Harry. "She's pretty friendly."

"Why would somebody like that marry a wimp like Quirrell?" pondered Hermione. "It doesn't piece together. He seemed like the type that didn't have that much luck with women."

"You didn't see him when he was in college, then," said a voice Harry recognized. He turned around to face Furrier. "It was obvious from the start that he had the hots for Talus—"

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked at the same time.

"Constanza Talus; she never bore the last name Loxias," explained Furrier. He pulled his scarf tightly around his neck and smiled. "You have no idea how happy I am that I'm not a cat anymore. It feels so great to be walking on two feet again." He eyed the trio of Gryffindors and Luna. "What are you doing, talking about Quirrell? Is this something I should be brought into?"

"Not really, Professor Furrier," said Luna. "We were talking more about Mrs. Quirrell."

"Oh," Furrier grumbled. "She's the one I don't have any problems with. It's the _husband_ that went bad. The wife remained the same until she died in '87." He shifted back into a calico cat and said, "Well, you'll have to excuse me. I must go collect cat treats from the Third Years."

"They carry them around in their pockets?" asked Ron. When Furrier began to purr, Ron let out a heavy sigh. "Why do they even bother?" He made sure to say that once Furrier had left.

Harry knew that Morty wasn't allowed to enter Turret Fifteen for a week, but nobody had said that the Curses & Rootwork _students_ were forbidden to go inside. "I'm sure we can see what got Morty to fall over if we look hard enough."

"Since when did you start calling Professor Skylarke 'Morty,' Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry faced Ron as he opened the oak door. "It was when we literally became friends."

"Don't trust him," said Hermione. "I think he has the gorgonix. All the evidence is pointing at _him_ now—"

"Didn't it point at 'Snape' earlier?" Harry snapped back. "The evidence is petty."

"Speaking of evidence, has Nezura written you back yet?"

"No, Ron," Harry admitted, "she hasn't." The four friends entered the Curses & Rootwork classroom and began to look around. Numerous herbs were drying on the ceiling, countless books were scattered everywhere, the little fountain that had flowed blood was gone, and somebody had stabbed a single Tarot card into Morty's office door; it was The Devil. Written in green paint were the words "Beware the Cursemaster, for he is a murderer" on one of the walls. Harry felt like he was going to be sick. Suddenly, he realized that there was a fifth person in the room; _Cyanis_. "What are you doing in here?" Harry thundered.

"Nothing," Cyanis said, obviously lying through his teeth. His hands held a crucifix, and an enormous one was dangling around his neck. "I only came in to see what had ailed Mortimer."

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "I may not like Professor Skylarke very much, but I _still_ think that you came in here to plant evidence. You _do_ know that's illegal, I presume?"

"It's better that he suffers rather than having to deal with getting the real man responsible caught," Cyanis snarled. "Look at what I've done. Who are any of you, mere children, to stop me?" He looked at Harry. "Go on; I dare you to try and hurt me. I've got so many reinforcements that you won't stand a chance against them. I'm protected by my powerful friends."

Harry pulled out his wand and spat, "All I have to do is have you threaten me, and you'll be out of here before you can say 'Azkaban,' which of course will be _exactly_ where you're heading." Cyanis didn't look terrified at all; in fact, he was chuckling lightly. "What's so funny, Cyanis?"

"You," Cyanis said, still laughing. "You and your friends are so sure of yourselves. It gets irritating, but at the same time, I find it so amusing that you little fools think that you'll be able to overthrow Lord Voldemort." His words were like snakebite; they stung and had a venomous texture. His face crumpled up, except for his blind eye that kept staring into nothingness. Suddenly, a pupil (a very small, evil-looking pupil) appeared in that white expanse. "You're all fools."

"And you taught Malfoy, Marcus, and Rick how to Slay," said Harry. "All three of them have parents that are Death Eaters—except Rick's mum, because I'm not sure what she's like—and have you ever seen Mortis?"

"Yes, I have," said Cyanis. "What about him? I'm not in the mood for small talk. The only reason I wouldn't finish_ you_ off is because that would leave two witnesses. I can't kill all _three_ of you, lest it look fishy. I really don't want to lose my job. Dumbledore was a fool to trust me, but I'm grateful that he did. Cain Cyanis, one of the best Slayers, would have been unemployed had it not been for his remarkable résumé." He smiled, showing off his needle-like teeth. "The blood of a sinner may be darker and thicker, but it is the blood of the saint that leaves behind a stain that cannot come out. In other words, it would be useless to try to dispose of all_ three_ of you, or even just _one_. Therefore, I must do to you what I did to those three boys."

"What did you do?" Ron asked, not letting down his guard. Like Harry and Hermione, he had his wand out in full sight. "We're armed, you know; tell us what you did to Malfoy and the others. Were you responsible for the destruction of Loxia?"

"She was a Death Eater too, you know," said Cyanis, "but she was one for all the wrong reasons. The Dark Lord tired of her and told me that I needed to find a way to creatively dispose of her. So I did; I got Severus and the children to do it for me without realizing I had them all under my power. The whole Slayers Renaissance was led by only a few people; that would be Adonis, Claire, Julius, and me, but we must all give Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock her due credit as well for writing the book. She's such an easily-inspired woman and has a gift with words. I guess you could say the Dark Arts Doctor has a knack for persuading readers. It was no problem to simply _convince_ Marcus to join our Cause, but Draco and Richard needed a bit more coaxing and persuasion. I had to use hypnosis on those two without them knowing. You wondered why they kept coming over to yours truly, right? Well, they spend more time with me than with their Hawkbanes, so surely it was a bit suspicious to an interrogating person like the famous Harry Potter."

"You're mocking me," Harry snarled. "I can sense it."

"So what if I am?" Cyanis retorted. "I guess you're not as dense as I first thought you were. All of those kids that got so interested in the Slayers Renaissance and aspired to become Slayers are under my control. If I tell them to Slay somebody, they will do it without hesitation; against me, they don't have a free will. Do you now see why I am such a powerful man?"

"That's not power," Hermione argued. "That's using your talent for all the wrong reasons!"

"In my mind, I view that as power," Cyanis said, pointing his wand at the three Gryffindors. "Now, I'm going to put a spell on you to forget you had this conversation with me—"

"Not so fast, Cain," said Ron. "You turned Hermione and me against Skylarke for no particular reason. You go into people's minds far too easily."

"I'm very gifted in that department," Cyanis added, "why else do you think I teach _Hypnotism_ up at Hogwarts? My best skill is Hypnosis, so I make use of it as often as possible." He had his wand up as well. "You would have hit me with a spell by now if you were really planning to attack me. If I was the Dark Lord himself, you would have tried to strike me already."

"We can take as much time as we want with a pain in the ass like you," Ron hissed back, sticking out his tongue. "This is what you get for toying with my mind, as well as Hermione's, Cain Cyanis…_Expelliarmus!"_

"Damn," Cyanis grumbled, fumbling around for his wand. _"Accio wand!"_

The wand would not come back to him, because Hermione already had it in her hands. "Looking for this, Professor Cyanis?" she sneered. _"Impedimenta!"_

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere to begin with," Cyanis said, slowly sitting down. "You're all too clever to try anything _stupid_, I hope."

"It all depends on what you mean by that," said Hermione. "If 'stupid' means where we don't hurt you, then yes, we are stupid. We have a perfectly good reason to do you harm, and rest assured; we're going to exercise that reason."

"Then do it," Cyanis sneered. "I'm a skeptic; I think you're nothing but talk."

"Why do you torment Morty?" Harry asked angrily. "I remember when you took his locket. What harm did he ever cause you? As far as I know, he's innocent from this whole gorgonix ordeal. You tried to use him as the Carrier _years_ ago, but it failed, didn't it?"

"I'm not saying," Cyanis sneered. "I'll keep you in suspense, but I find it sad that you actually trust somebody like Mortimer Skylarke, Harry. He's nothing but trouble."

"Look who's talking, Professor!" Hermione barked. "You're a Death Eater!"

"It was a wise investment and I would _never_ regret it," Cyanis jeered. "I've seen them come and go over the years, but I have remained faithful…except that time I lied to the Ministry and said that I had been under the Imperius Curse the whole time. The buffoon in charge believed me too, after I…er…_persuaded_ him." He began to laugh again. "You've got me stuck here, defenseless and unable to run away. Did you only want to interrogate me?"

"No," Harry said, raising his wand. _"Priaxa Nervata!"_ Cyanis yowled in agony. The scream seemed to echo everywhere. The ground rattled, and the screams seemed to give Harry a tremendous headache. His scar had begun to flare up, and he knew it was from the Dark Mark. There was no possible way a throbbing pain like that could have merely come from a scream.

"_Priaxa Requiescat," _he took the curse off of Cyanis and said flatly, "Leave." Cyanis did as Harry requested; he scampered off as quickly as his old legs could take him. "So…Malfoy, Marcus and Rick all got taken advantage of by Cyanis and the other Slayers."

"I think the only true Slayer wannabe is Marcus," said Hermione. "Everybody else must have been persuaded. I _never _thought Slaying was interesting."

"But, you said earlier that you agreed with the Doctrine," Harry said, confused.

"I said I agreed with _most_ of it, not _all_ of it, Harry," Hermione argued. "You're twisting my words around until none of them were _ever_ uttered out of my mouth. That's not a good habit!" She stuck out her tongue and said flatly, "I hope the new Alchemy teacher's better than the last one. I've lost two Hawkbanes in this semester alone—it's a wonder Dumbledore doesn't close down Hogwarts with this death rate—and I hope the next one isn't a pervert like Parenein or a monster like Loxias. I want a normal witch or wizard that is a skilled Alchemist and a relatively good teacher to take the position; I'm tired of dealing with oddballs."

"You know," Ron said, "You've got a good point, Hermione. I lost Lewn, so now I've got Furrier. It's an odd situation where he's got to have six Sponsored students. My grades are just enough to keep me in the program. By the way, Harry, what did Furrier have to talk to you, Naomi, and Marcus about?"

"Naomi's getting kicked out of the program, and Marcus and I have been put on Hawkbane probation," Harry said angrily. "If my grades stay the same by the end of the semester, then I can only continue to take Advanced Necromancy with the other Hawkbane students."

"Well, that sucks," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "They can't kick you out of the Hawkbane program; you're Harry Potter. They'd have to be nutters to dismiss _you_."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at the clock and realized that they had begun to become tired. Trudging off to the dormitories, they didn't even bother to change into their pajamas.

"Hello, Sixth Years!" Ebonyste said energetically. He was filled with a relatively large amount of energy, and his ears were twitching uncontrollably. Despite his exaggerated cheeriness, it was easy to tell that he was nervous over something. "We're going to…er…did you know your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher arrived right after breakfast?" Everybody was quite glad that Snape's tyranny as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had finally reached its closure. Harry let out a sigh of relief; Potions was as much Snape-time as he could handle without losing his sanity. "Anyway, back to Foreign Magic, we will be covering Canada today." Suddenly, Ebonyste's eyes got filled with tears and he began to bawl. "MITZI!" He ran out of the room crying, and everybody watched him, confused about what they had just witnessed.

"He's _still_ upset that Nezura left?" Malfoy asked nobody in particular, and then began to laugh. "Poor little fairy-man, in love with the pinstripe midget!"

"Leave Ebonyste alone, Malfoy," Hermione spat. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Oh, nothing," Malfoy answered, "but he's so much fun to torment. Don't get in my way, Granger, or you'll regret it; understand?"

"I've got a good reason to have a grudge against Ebonyste," Marcus added, "he hates me. Haven't you noticed that when he yells, it's usually at _me_?" He threw his textbook down onto the floor. "I _hate_ Foreign Magic!"

Ebonyste finally came back into the room, dabbing at his face with Kleenex. "Potter, there was an owl outside named Tammuz. He had a letter for you, and I think I'll hand it over." He tossed a piece of parchment to Harry that had some black ink scribbled on it.

Harry looked at the note and his face paled. "Dear Mr. Potter, you did not acquiesce to my request to meet with me. I will be nice this time and pretend to believe that you simply forgot…I would not want to think you would be _dodging_ me. Meet me _this_ evening in St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, and bring the little compact mirror with you. I am in dire need of it." He groaned in agony. "Signed, S_omeone You Know that has Conquered Death._" He had forgotten to see what that person had wanted! After talking to Morty, dealing with Cyanis, and the excitement of having a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he had absolutely forgotten about the person that had wanted to speak with him!

"Are you okay, Potter?" asked Ebonyste. His left ear was still twitching a little, but his face looked quite serious. "You look like you've met face-to-face with an unfriendly ghost."

"Leave me alone," Harry spat, not wanting Ebonyste to come closer. "I don't want you looming over me like a vulture."

"Vulture, eh?" Ebonyste said, backing up. "I'll have to take about five points from Gryffindor for that remark, but that's it. That offense was too minor to put you in detention."

"Thanks a lot, Harry," hissed Seamus. "I'd _earned_ those five points for Gryffindor this morning for offering to carry books for our new teacher."

"So, in that case, do you know what he or she is like?" asked Ron. "I'd like to know before we go into Turret Eight. Anybody would be better than Snape."

Harry secretly had to admit that Snape did a pretty good job in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he wasn't going to tell his friends that. He detested Snape, but he realized that Defense Against the Dark Arts was something he did pretty well. "So, Seamus, what's the new teacher like?"

"How should I know what she's like?" Seamus retorted. "I only spoke to her once."

"Did you get to see what she looked like?" asked Ron. He turned toward Harry. "What if it's somebody we know?"

"It _is_ somebody we know, but not personally," Seamus said, smiling. "I couldn't believe it when I saw her at Hogwarts. It was quite a surprise to see somebody like her over here."

"Who is it?" Harry asked. "I'd like to know."

Seamus said, "_Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock_."

Ron looked very excited when he heard those last three words. "You're not joking with us, are you?"

"No, he's not joking," said Dean. "I saw her too. When I saw that ghastly face, I _knew_ it couldn't be anybody else." He shivered. "She's not a beauty queen, I can tell you that right now. Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock reminded me of someone evil."

"Like Cassandra Snape," added Seamus.

"She wasn't evil," Harry said angrily. "Cassandra saved my life and went to Azkaban…for _me_. Parenein is dead and I'm now safer, thanks to her."

"She must have put a Confundus Charm on you," Seamus said, shrugging his shoulders and getting back to writing about the types of charms that had originated in Canada.

"For today's lesson," Ebonyste said, "we will perform a couple of Canadian charms—most of which came from Saskatchewan—and then we'll all send letters and care packages to your _real_ Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He sniffled again. "I hope Mitzi's doing okay in Toronto." Everybody could see that he was looking over a picture of Nezura (and the pinstripe panties he had swiped from her) and was about to pitch another fit.

"Professor Ebonyste," Ron said quickly. "When are we going to meet Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock?" He looked anxious.

"Well, it would have been this coming up Monday, but since she insisted on making a show about her arrival, she'll be making a speech at dinner," Ebonyste's left ear twitched. "That woman is somebody you don't want to clash wands with. _She's_ the favorite writer of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord!" He picked up a Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock book (How to Care for Your Griffin) and threw it to the ground. "I can't _stand_ her."

Instead of talking about Canada, the Foreign Magic period was wasted by discussing Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock. "She's got a Mage's Degree in Hypnotism and Herbology, so she got to take the honor of putting '_Dr._' in front of her name," Ebonyste concluded. "I'd feel sorry for anybody that got Dr. Hemlock as their doctor or Healer. She'd probably torture her patients." The bell rang, and Ebonyste waved comically to the Sixth Years. "Let us all hope you will be able to survive her class!"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, and then let out a long sigh. "I don't know whether or not we should view Ebonyste as a credible source. Perhaps there's nothing wrong with Dr. Hemlock except that she doesn't like to be bothered." Suddenly, he remembered something and groaned in agony. "Damn; I'm going to miss her speech tonight."

"You aren't seriously going out to St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery _alone _tonight, are you, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously. "Please tell me you're not that _foolish_! You could be walking right into a trap, so why don't you let Ron and me go over there with you?"

"That way, if anything happens, you'll have two people to back you up," Ron said calmly. "For all we know, Cassandra's parents might be out to get you."

"Lydia's nice," Harry argued. "Claudius may be a rude git, but Lydia was at least _polite_. If either of them is out to get me, I bet it's Claudius."

"Some of our enemies have tried to get you to feel comfortable around them before they strike," Hermione pointed out. "Maybe Lydia Von Dorian is trying that, too."

Harry looked around, and went inside the Charms classroom, relieved to see Flitwick was in there, chatting merrily with Blaise and Rhianna. Ron and Hermione took their seats, but Harry went into the corner to read what the anonymous writer had written. He felt the little compact mirror that contained the soul of Stanzi Quirrell in his pocket, and it was beginning to become hot. Inferring, Harry felt that was a bad omen.

_**Hi everyone...Professor Skylarke here. I just wanted to thank the 8 reviewers I've had so far. I really do appreciate it! I know the story is being read, but I sure do wish that those of you reading would let me know that you're reading! Just one review from everyone whose read up to this chapter would be great! I know it's a lot to ask! Ok, I'm begging on my knees! Please, please review for me!**_

_**Ok, thanks!**_


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One:

St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery

"Now is not the time, Hermione," Harry said, walking outside the oak doors that let people in and out of Hogwarts. "I have an appointment with someone at St. Clytemnestra's, and I already put them off _once_ this week. I want to see who he is and what he wants with me."

"Perhaps he wants your life," said Hermione. "You should let us come along, just in case something happens."

"I don't want to see you and Ron get hurt, okay?" Harry hissed. "Hermione, it would kill me to see you two get involved."

"Look, it would kill _us_ to see you get involved in something that takes your life away from you," Hermione whined. "I'm begging you, Harry; let us come along."

"Don't you _want_ to meet Dr. Hemlock?" Ron asked. "I'm sure your person you're meeting up with would understand if you put her name into the equation. Who _wouldn't_ want to meet a celebrity like her? She's no Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Harry, I'm begging you," Hermione pleaded, "Let us go with you. I don't trust the people in charge of St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, and who knows what they'd permit on their grounds." She shivered. "After all, _Cassandra's mum_ owns the property, and isn't she a lamia?"

"Hold on," Ron said, grabbing Hermione by the shoulder. "Have you noticed that we're in _Hogsmeade_ now? We've followed Harry off-campus without noticing." He pointed at the three-story unpainted Victorian and his jaw dropped. "What's this place?" A look of nervousness and slight fear was etched all over him; he was so pale that his freckles had blanched along with the rest of his face.

"This is the Lair," Harry said, "Cassandra's family lives here." He went up to the door chime and pulled the string to make the old-fashioned bell ring.

Just like last time when it had been Manifest night, Lydia Von Dorian opened up the entrance to the house. Much to Harry's disappointment, she was not wearing lingerie; instead, she was wearing a baggy gray turtleneck with a pair of olive green stirrup pants. "Hello," she said sleepily. "You came in time, Harry Potter; Claudius wouldn't let you in, and I just came back from a Diagon Alley trip with Teiresias. Would you and your friends like to come in?"

"I think that's pretty obvious, Mrs. Snape," Hermione said icily.

Lydia glared at Hermione and said, "_Ahem_. I prefer to keep my maiden name, so please refer to me as Ms. _Von Dorian_ or _Lydia_." She looked at Ron and a smile curled up on her snowy-pale face. "It has been quite a long time since I've seen a Weasley anywhere near the Lair. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, and since you must be Cassandra's age, I am inferring that you are _Ron_ Weasley." She turned to Hermione and said, "I never forget a face; you're Hermione Granger." She suddenly looked at her sloppy outfit and groaned. "What a pity you have to see me like this; I was settling down for the night." She sighed and said, "Before I heard the door chime, I can honestly say I was heading for my coffin."

"Suicide?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Beauty sleep," Lydia answered curtly. "Did you come here to talk to Teiresias?"

Hermione tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Is that the name of Cassandra's little brother?"

"Yeah," answered Harry. "and he looks just like Snape."

"No, we didn't come to talk to Teiresias," said Ron. "We were wondering if it would be alright with you if we went to St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery at this time of night."

"I don't mind in the least," Lydia said, eerily smiling. Her face was as white as her teeth, and she seemed to be getting paler by the minute. "After all, you three are Necromancy students that study under a close friend of mine. If you want to go out there, I'm going to have to let you; I signed a contract with Dumbledore saying that I would allow Necromancy students into St. Clytemnestra's, as long as they don't do one—or more—of the four errors. If you go to torment a dead soul, I must know beforehand and offer permission. If you try to Resurrect somebody dangerous, you must get my permission first. If you go over there to Resurrect _anyone_, or even attempt to put a soul inside a body, I must have a report from you, stating who it is you're going to attempt to bring back into this world, and you must have my permission to continue. And, fourthly, if you are going to be making gore crows or Zombies, you _must_ be supervised with a professional Necromancer. I've had people get mauled to death by gore crows they had created." She sighed and said, "You would be surprised at how many nitwits live in this area." She then turned toward Harry. "What is your purpose for going to St. Clytemnestra's at this hour?"

Harry pulled out the piece of parchment Lydia had signed for him at his last visit. "I want to dig up the bodies that you gave me permission for. Also, I wish to attempt a Resurrection for Constanza Quirrell."

Ron tapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not," Harry said. "I'm sure Hermione could show us how to do one properly. After all, she's probably memorized the Necromancy textbook by now."

"I _could_ show you how to do one," Hermione said, "but it's a bit complicated. So much could go wrong if even one little error is made. Besides, I've never Resurrected a person."

"You'd never fixed a Polyjuice Potion, either," Ron added. "Did that stop you from making one _perfectly_?"

"Well, no…" Hermione said, trailing off. "But Ron, this is _Necromancy_. This magic deals with _life_ and _death_; it's not something relatively harmless. Necromancy is _dangerously_ powerful stuff, you know that!"

"Permission is granted," Lydia said, a frail smile appearing on her deathly face. She was pretty, but far from being cute. As soon as she said those three permissible words, she seemed to become stern. "I appreciate that you came over here so I could keep it on my record. Due to past _errors_ I have made, I must now keep a log of everybody that comes in and leaves St. Clytemnestra's, whether he or she is living or dead." She then turned to Harry and said, "For your Resurrection, do you have all the proper equipment?"

"Er…" Harry looked at what he had carried in his bag. "Well, I don't—"

"Ron's got it," Hermione said, peeping at what Ron had in _his_ bag. "Hold on…_Ron!_ Why have you got a bell bandolier in your book bag?"

"Snitchgrass informed me at breakfast that I would need it later on today. So, with that in mind, I've gone all day with my Necromancy supplies in here, even though Necromancy is _next_ week." Ron let out a long, heavy sigh. "I wish Dumbledore would get rid of Cyanis because he's a Death Eater, Ebonyste because he's two-faced, Pyrites because he intimidates even the _Hawkbane_ students, Snitchgrass because she never seems to be fully there, Furrier because he's been a grump for the majority of the year, and Snape because he's…well…_Snape_."

"Well," Lydia said impatiently. "I'm giving you permission to be in St. Clytemnestra's until two in the morning, but you must go over there now before I revoke your permit. After I spent the day in Diagon Alley with my son that wanted to see _Knockturn_ Alley, you can understand that I am beginning to become impatient." She tapped her fingers on her side for a moment, and then escorted the three Gryffindors out the door. "Have a nice visit to my cemetery, and please come back for a much more pleasant visit…you know this is a place students can visit on Hogsmeade trips, right?"

"I didn't know that," Harry said, a bit confused. "But Lydia, isn't the Lair in _downtown_ Hogsmeade? We're allowed in the marketplace area, not _downtown_." That wasn't going to stop him from visiting, but why would Dumbledore permit students to visit a sinister-looking place like the Von Dorian Lair? Perhaps for Slytherins, but for _everyone_…that was unheard of.

"Actually, students that are taking Necromancy _are_ allowed downtown," Lydia answered coolly. "Well, off with you. Please stop by for another visit, all three of you, when you've got a Hogsmeade weekend. I'll make sure I can be a proper hostess to you next time."

After walking across the street, Harry watched as the St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery gates opened. The two chimaera statues at the front seemed to stare at him in a loathsome way. The grass was beginning to turn a pale grayish-green from exposure to the cold weather and a lot of frosts. "You know where we're supposed to go, right?" Ron said, shivering. "It doesn't matter that Ahsimal took us over here before; this has got to be the largest and most bone-chilling cemetery I've ever been in." Not looking where he was going, Ron tripped over a headstone…a rather new one with a fresh grouping of yellow roses beside it. "Let's see who it was I stumbled over," he said shakily. "_Harry!_ This is where Cedric's buried!" Hermione didn't seem to be enjoying a single second of the visit. She was fidgeting even more than Ron.

As Ron and Hermione continued onward, Harry stayed behind for a moment to straighten up the flowers Ron had scattered, and to get a look at Cedric's final resting place. A warm and slightly humid wind began to blow, and it was almost as if Harry could feel the presence of Cedric Diggory. For a moment, he could see Cedric looming over him, and then he vanished. It was strange; he could see a lot more than Ron and Hermione apparently could. Harry's face had gone as pale as Lydia's had only half an hour earlier. Not wanting to spend any more time at that certain site, he continued onward, trying to find the place where Teiresias had been reading a Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock book after the ManiFest. Where was the person that had wanted to speak with him?

Suddenly, the building where Juno Lethe and the other musicians had been to talk to certain fans appeared right before Harry. Ron and Hermione were leaning against it, beginning to tire. "I know where we're supposed to go for the Resurrection," said Harry. He looked to the left, and found where Teiresias had been leaning. When he went over there, he recognized Quirrell's headstone. "Constanza's on the left and the son's on the right."

"I thought that we were coming out here to meet the anonymous person that sent you the note," Hermione said angrily. "Well, Harry, where is he?"

"I am right in front of you, Miss Granger," said a flat voice. Hermione screamed in surprise. Ron turned around, and his face lost all color, just as it had right outside the Lair. "You too, Weasley; I hope you can see me." Ron pointed at the silhouette and his mouth was quivering, obviously he was too shocked to say anything. "What about you, Potter? Recognize me?"

Harry looked at the person in front of him, and tried to see the man's face. "I'm not sure; it's rather hard to see who you are when you're wearing a hooded robe. Take off the hood and let's see if I recognize you." His face and voice showed no sign of fear, yet inwardly he was a bit worried. After listening to the few words the Man Who Had Conquered Death had spoken to Hermione, Ron, and to Harry, it was horrifically apparent that the victor was not Remus Lupin, as Harry had first inferred. "Who are you?"

The man turned around and pulled the hood down. Sandy-colored hair with a gossamer appearance went down to the nape of this fellow's neck. Harry couldn't think of a sandy-haired person he knew of who had died…until the man faced him. The face was one that Harry recognized immediately, only he had been used to seeing this person wearing a purple turban instead of a black scarf. "So, does my face bring back a cruel memory?"

"So, Tammuz is _your_ owl?" Harry said, looking at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and seeing what other physical surprises were in the appearance. First off, the thin, sandy hair had distracted him, the scarf was something new, and Quirrell wasn't stuttering. A nauseating sensation began to occur in Harry's stomach; he felt like he was going to be sick. "He tried to warn me, started to hoot wildly—"

"He tends to be melodramatic about stuff like that. Look, Potter; I do not serve a Dark Lord that's going to leave me behind to die. I resigned, and I served another Dark wizard for a brief time."

Quirrell flinched and began to unravel his black scarf. On his wan neck were two bite marks. "I hide from the Death Eaters now because there are more Slayers than ever. Sure, about a month ago, I would have supported their cause, but something's changed about me. Is it not ironic that I have now become what I, at one time, most feared? The two holes in my neck symbolize me crossing from Life to Death, and from Death to a Half-Life; I am now Undead, and therefore a vampire."

"Are you still supporting Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Quirrell flinched again. "No, I am not. I serve nobody now. A Dark wizard with no dreams of conquest brought me back because he pitied me. Believe me; had Darius Ahsimal wanted to, he would have started his reign centuries ago. Time does not affect him, nor will it affect me. We are both the same in one way; I am now a vampire."

Ron and Hermione had their wands pulled out as weapons. "Don't move or we'll curse you," Ron threatened.

"He's not bluffing," Hermione added. "Neither am I; I've got a great grade in Curses & Rootwork, and I know which ones to use to torment you for all eternity. It's useless; you'll never harm Harry again."

"_You'll never harm Harry again_," Quirrell mimicked. "I have no need to even _try_ to kill him anymore. I am in my own free will at last, and that's why I wanted to meet with you three. I knew you'd come along with him; _and wherever_ _Potter goes, his friends are sure to follow._" At his last comment, he sniggered a bit. "I take it you've got that mirror, Potter?" Harry reached in his pocket and felt the mirror; it was as cold as ice. Quirrell outstretched a white-gloved hand, beckoning with his index finger for Harry to come closer. "Well, if that's the case, it should be in my hands, not yours. I _know_ Stanzi's stuck in there."

"I have nothing against Stanzi," Harry said, keeping the mirror back in his pocket, "unlike _you_." A glowing green spark was in Quirrell's eyes for a brief moment, and then disappeared; he looked furious. "Besides, the other reason I came over here was to Resurrect her before another Varinia Loxias comes along."

Quirrell pulled out a shovel. "How odd; I had the same idea, only I was also thinking I would bring my son back to me as well. I lost him once, so I'll make sure I'll never lose him again. Cecil's death was my fault, so I must take responsibility."

"You didn't take responsibility when you had Voldemort stuck on you," Harry snapped. "Who got you to change sides?"

"The Necromancer that gave me the bite," Quirrell answered, "Darius Ahsimal."

"You were quick to side with Voldemort," Harry said, and watched as Quirrell shivered.

"Please, Potter, do not utter his dreadful name to me any more," Quirrell pleaded. "I am not his servant, and the name might attract him to this spot. Were you aware that one of the most famous places for Death Eaters to gather is close to where we are standing this very moment? Claudius and Lydia Von Dorian-Snape own the cemetery as part of their property, yet let Death Eaters gather in this area. The reason is as follows; they are both prominent Death Eaters."

"How would you know?" Ron barked.

"I had Voldemort on the back of my head, have you forgotten?" Quirrell hissed back. "I knew what he was thinking, whether he was aware of that or not. But, most unfortunately, I was manipulated in the process." He ungloved his hands and rolled up his sleeves, reaching for a shovel. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must unearth the remains of my wife and son." A rather unhappy look spread across his expressionistic face. "It's not going to smell or look nice, but it will be worth it to see them once more. Darius did me a favor, and I have done him several. Surely he would not mind bringing my wife and my son back—"

"I never met your son," Harry said, "but I _have_ spoken to Constanza a few times."

"That's because you have her mirror," Quirrell added angrily. "You stole it out of my teacher robe's front pocket after I had recovered that sentimental item from Varinia." He then looked at the three Gryffindors and asked, "What year is it?"

"1996," Hermione said, "and it is a bit past the ides of November."

"I'm warning you right now, Quirrell; try anything funny, and I'll straighten you out with the Priaxa Curse." Quirrell became silent almost immediately, believing Ron to be serious about the threat. "I know how to use the Priaxa; Professor Skylarke showed us earlier this month."

"I'm not going against your word," Quirrell said dejectedly. "Look, I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to meet up with Potter so I could get my wife's mirror back. I really need it for what I am going to do."

"Since I also came here to Resurrect Stanzi," said Harry, "then perhaps you and I could work for the same goal. Together, we can bring them back."

"Now, where have I heard those _exact _words before?" Quirrell spat. "The Dark Lord tried to coerce you with that same statement…for a moment, you sounded just like him. After I had lost Cecil, he gave me the same lie; that I could have my family back if I did what he told me to do." He grasped his shovel tightly and then swung it at Harry. "What do want from me?"

"I should be asking _you_ that question!" Harry shouted back. "You sent Tammuz to deliver your messages of wanting to bring me over here, so _you_ must want something from me." He backed off, holding his wand very tightly in his right hand. "If it has anything to do with my power or my life—"

"Relax," Quirrell sneered in a haughty way. "All I want from you is that tiny little make-up mirror. I also wanted to see you again to let you know that I am no longer your enemy."

"Why should we trust _you?"_ snapped Hermione.

"Simply put, I have no incentive in opposing you anymore." Quirrell shrugged his shoulders. "The Dark Lord left me to die like a loathsome cur, and it is now known that either you or he will prevail in the end. Since I cannot turn back to somebody that cares nothing about anyone other than himself, I see no harm done in making an alliance with people who had at one time been my opponents. Did you not listen to Juno Lethe?" A rather sickening laugh came from his mouth. "I have been alive for a while, but I thought that now would be the perfect time to make myself known to you, Potter."

"What do you know about Juno Lethe?" thundered Harry. Lethe had given him the shivers through her Mediumship, and he did not want to be reminded of what she had told him.

"_Enemies are becoming allies at present, just so that our defense against this upcoming terror might have more of a chance_," Quirrell said in a horrendously accurate portrayal of how Lethe had sounded…he didn't change a single letter; everything was word-for-word what Lethe had told Harry when they had been alone. "Perhaps I have confused you even further by telling you that. You see, I am pretty little Juno, so I told you the philosophy presented by Dr. Hemlock, the only person who I look up to with adoration. There is truth in what was said; it came out of Juno's mouth, but it was my words. I am Juno, and Juno is none other than yours truly."

"How strange," Hermione said, laughing icily. "You can turn into other people?"

"Well, I can only turn into Juno," Quirrell corrected Hermione. "Even after Death, people can change for better or for worse. For example, I can gain or lose certain talents, all depending on whatever body I want to have. I am skilled with trolls, while Juno's skilled with music."

"Nobody's been able to do turn into another person for a _very_ long time," Hermione barked. "You've got to be lying. The last known person to be able to do that was Sargon Von Dorian back in the eighteenth century. Besides, wouldn't you have shown off your power by now?"

"Up until recently, it had been a difficult skill I couldn't use anywhere," Quirrell admitted. "So, therefore, I decided to start making _use_ of my ability. After all, I had spent a painful seven years at Hogwarts learning how to do this, so it would be pretty embarrassing if I couldn't do anything worthwhile with it. Therefore, I decided to put Juno's singing ability into a profitable state. Her soothing voice and talent on stringed instruments guaranteed her celebrity status in the Wizarding World in a matter of a week or two. Soon, I was making records, playing the violin, singing at various events, and eventually becoming a star at Manifest."

"But…how exactly did you know about Morty?" asked Harry. "When I spoke to Lethe—er, _you_—at ManiFest, Mortimer Skylarke was mentioned as a Curses & Rootwork teacher at LéAvíans. How did you know that he's at Hogwarts now?"

"How could I _not_ know?" Quirrell said, rolling his eyes. "He's the equivalent of a rock star with the Dead; it's always _Morty Skylarke_ this, and _Morty Skylarke_ that. Nobody has been that popular in Death, as far as I know. Everyone wants to know what he's up to down where I was, because the same friend that murdered him brought him back to _life_ a few years later. I guess rejuvenated corpses are held in high regard in the Afterlife." He then looked at Harry and said, "I didn't know your godfather was Sirius Black. I saw him down there before I came back."

"You did?" Harry grabbed on to Quirrell's robes and began to shake him. "How is he? What is he doing down there? How can I bring him back without having him end up like Morty?"

"Why are you bombarding me with questions I wouldn't feel comfortable answering?" Quirrell spat. "I brought a friend to the cemetery with me, a professional Necromancer, to Resurrect my family. I want them back, but this has _never_ been a subject I enjoyed performing, although I did very well in Ahsimal's classes. Therefore, I paid someone to do the job for me, but I've _still_ got to dig Stanzi and Cecil up first…and I must have that mirror…"

As if on cue, a hooded black figure appeared from behind Quirrell and stepped forward. "You better pay me overtime for going out here in the middle of the night," the Necromancer grumbled angrily. He pulled down his veil and grimaced at Harry. "I remember you from ManiFest, Harry Potter."

"And I you, Phorcys Lancerie," Harry said flatly. "You're a Necromancer?"

"Yes, that I am," said Lancerie. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare myself." He closed his eyes and pulled out a chain of amulets, which he proceeded to wave everywhere in a discordant manner. The cacophony in his usually tranquil voice was overpowering; for once, it sounded too rough to be a singer's voice. His smile was not theatrical, but grotesque. Under his eyes were livid half-moons, a lion-shaped piercing was hanging out of his left nostril, and mascara of some kind was spewing from his cheeks in a spidery way, leaving gray streams that had dried out and left a crusty aftermath. Harry looked behind Lancerie to see that Quirrell was quickly unearthing the coffins that held the remnants of Constanza and Cecil, and that both Ron and Hermione had helped him in the process. Lancerie loomed over the empty graves to get a better look. "Are you done _yet_? I may have come out here with you, but rest assured, I'm _not_ going to waste my whole night on bringing your family back to you from Death."

"I…I've got a bell bandolier in my bookbag," Ron confessed. "How about I quit digging and put it on? I've got a pretty good feeling we're going to need it." He climbed out of the hole and began to fumble around in his bag to find the belt. Harry looked as well, so the bell bandolier was spotted in less than thirty seconds. "WE FOUND IT!"

"You did? That's great; now silence yourselves, lest someone is listening to us, and hand it over to me," said Quirrell, reaching out his hands. "Come _on_; I'm the one in need, not you."

"And I'm the Necromancer, not _you_," Lancerie cautioned. "The bandolier should be in my possession temporarily. I doubt you even know what a bell bandolier _is_, Quirrell."

"I took Necromancy I and II while I was at Hogwarts, thank you very much," Quirrell snapped. "Sure, I'm paying you to bring back my family, but I'm a sufficient Necromancer myself. _Never_ insult my intelligence, Phorcys." Lancerie simply shrugged his shoulders and turned to Ron, obviously wanting the bandolier. "You _do_ know that other instruments can be used in Resurrection other than bells, right?"

"Yeah, but bells are traditional. Use your fiddle if you like, but I'm sure that the bells will be much better because _that_ is the way we true Necromancers have _always_ done it."

"Ahsimal's used a flute a couple of times, as far as I know," Quirrell squabbled back at Lancerie, "and what about Skylarke? I've _seen_ him use an oboe before. Alex and I both took Necromancy II when we were Sixth Years, and Alex used a violin. Therefore, not all Necromancers opt for the bells, Phorcys. It may be traditional, but some traditions are made to be broken."

"In that case, I'll take my pay and be off, since you clearly think you can bring your wife and child back without any complications. It is obvious you only brought me out here to waste my time, but I will not be cheated out of my salary," Lancerie smiled again, and his light teeth now had an atrocious appearance contrasting to the rest of his face. "You will pay for getting out of bed to do nothing. So, will it be in terms of money, or terms of _physical damage_?"

"Money would be better," Quirrell stammered and pulled out a small bag filled with a certain amount of Sickles. He tossed it to Lancerie and said, "Thanks for nothing, Phorcys."

"You're _quite_ welcome," Lancerie snarled as he disappeared into the night.

"We've uncovered a coffin," Hermione said from one of the holes.

"Same over here," said Ron.

"I'm going to have to pay you back for helping me out so much," Quirrell said glumly. "It would have taken me four times as long to dig them up. Lydia only permitted me to be here until three in the morning, and I had to _buy_ that permit. The Von Dorians are _not _a lenient family." He pulled out his violin and said, "Maybe we won't need the bells…but I'd have to take on the form of Juno Lethe to play this. _I_ don't have a bloody clue how to be a violinist." He groaned in misery. "That's why Madame Twitchett kicked me out of Band & Orchestra."

"You got kicked out?" Hermione asked, slightly amused. "I can play a clarinet, and Madame Twitchett says I'm pretty good."

"Well, unless you carry it with you, I don't see any reason to even mention it," Quirrell stated. "Now, perhaps the bells would be easiest. Anybody that has studied necromantic Resurrections knows how to use the bell bandolier properly, so there is no effort needed in transposing the bell's melody into the proper notes for another instrument." A rather repulsive smile had curled onto his face, and made him share a striking resemblance to a corpse.

"You know how to do this, right?" Ron said, "I'm not quite sure about this…"

"You're not sure about a lot of stuff," Hermione argued. "I read the final chapter in Necromancy I, which _is_ what we're taking, and it covered a Basic Resurrection. That's as far as I'm planning on going in this course; I tried Necromancy once, and I will _not_ try it again." She grabbed the smallest bell off of the belt and rang it twice. She then pulled out the second-largest and rang once, then went back to the small bell, and played a rather bloodcurdling, discordant melody with the rest of the bells, sometimes picking up three for four at a time to play a clashing chord. After she finished by playing the lowest bell four times, she looked up at Ron, Harry, and Quirrell. "I've done my part; one of you has to do the actual incantation." She pointed a finger at Quirrell, "How about you do it? After all, this is _your_ family, not ours."

"Gladly," Quirrell said smoothly, and pulled out his wand. "_Sabrinica Saiseriet Selim_," he began. A glowing blue mist began to rise up from the two coffins, and one began to move. He closed his eyes, and began to recite a rather complex incantation. Harry tried with difficulty to decipher what the man was saying, but found it useless. _Oh well_, he thought. Darius would show him how to do that later on in the year, and perhaps before Christmas in Afterlight lessons.

After mumbling for a long while, Quirrell opened his eyes and focused heavily on the coffin that wasn't shaking. His eyes became quite vacant and stared unnaturally at the object with immense concentration. "_Saiseriet Selim!_"

"Er…you forgot to light the black candle," Hermione said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"No, I didn't," Quirrell snapped back. "I placed a lit one behind both of the headstones before any of you showed up here. You didn't see the light?" Another unpleasant smile reached his face as the other casket began to shake. It was obvious that somebody wanted out. "Do any of you have a crowbar?"

"What do you think we are? Grave robbers?" hissed Ron. "Do we look like we carry crowbars, sledgehammers, and box-cutters with us wherever we go?"

"After what I saw Granger do with the bells, I'd have to say _yes_ to that question," Quirrell said icily. "Now, do _any_ of you carry a crowbar?"

"NO!" they all shouted.

"What do you need it for?" Hermione asked blankly.

"What do you _think_ I need it for, Granger?" Quirrell rolled his eyes in exasperation. "For a bright young witch such as yourself, you can be so _slow_ sometimes. I need it to pry those rot-boxes open where Stanzi and Cecil have been stuck for years. We may have brought them back to life, but they can now suffocate in there."

"You don't need a crowbar for that," Hermione said, raising her wand. "_Alohomora!_" Both of the latches on the coffins unlocked, and the lids began to open. "_Now_ who's the one being slow, Professor Quirrell?"

Quirrell didn't take any time to be polite to the Sixth Years; he shoved Harry and the others out of his way as he helped a mousy-haired boy out of a smaller coffin. However, for some odd reason, something had gone wrong. Cecil Quirrell had been somewhere around six years old when he had died, but he seemed to have gained four years; he now appeared to be a ten-year-old and closer to the age of Teiresias Von Dorian-Snape. The other individual didn't need any help emerging from her long rest. Harry pulled out the make-up compact mirror and handed it over to Quirrell. After all, since Stanzi was alive again, he had no need to carry a girlish mirror used to hold cosmetics. Malfoy would laugh him out of Hogwarts if he kept it, so he simply handed it over to the man that had demanded it. "Hold on, Potter," said Quirrell. "I don't need it anymore."

"Well, neither do _I_," Harry spat back. "You wanted it so badly; take it!"

"I'll have it if neither of you will," said a voice only Quirrell and Harry seemed to recognize. Hermione and Ron both jumped in surprise as a slender woman in a bohemian-style gray dress appeared out of the shadows. "It was my home for ten years, so I'd like to be the one to dispose of it. Since it symbolizes Varinia's power, let me crush it." Her eyes traveled around until hers met with Harry's green ones. "So, we finally get a chance to talk face-to-face. I'm so relieved. Thanks for being my window to the outside world, Harry. I really appreciate it." She smiled and hugged him shortly. "Also, thanks for listening to me."

"Hold on, Stanzi," Quirrell said, stomping his foot. "Don't _I_ get an embrace?"

"Can it," Stanzi said curtly. "You sided with Voldemort. Cecil wouldn't have fallen to the Death Eaters had you been a decent parent…or if Varinia hadn't finished me off." She waved a fist at him. "_This was your fault in the first place_!"

"He was very persuasive…" Quirrell said, shivering. "I'm not a supporter anymore."

"Prove it," Stanzi snarled. "Harry, did he really try to kill you in your First Year at Hogwarts?"

Harry didn't listen to any more of the squabble; something about Stanzi had caught his attention. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked aloud, grabbing her clammy hand. "On your middle finger, isn't that a Nemesarist's Ring?"

"Nemesarist?" Quirrell repeated. "What's that?" He glared at Stanzi and said, "a select group of Death Eaters, perhaps?"

"Harry!" Hermione shouted from the distance. "You've got to come over here!"

Harry decided that he trusted Hermione more than Stanzi, and much more than Quirrell, and walked over to where she and Ron were sitting. Cecil was in their company, rather inquisitive about the whole ordeal. "You mean to tell me that I've been worm chow for six years? I don't really remember being dead. Are you sure you're not just trying to get a rise out of me?"

"Look, Cecil; we're sure," Ron said, sounding very-much exasperated. "You woke up in a coffin, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and nobody made an effort to get me out for quite a while," Cecil grumbled. He cast a quizzical glance at Harry and said, "Are you _really_ Harry Potter?" He pointed at Hermione. "She's been trying to convince me, but I'm a bit of a skeptic. I don't think you're the real deal."

"And why is _that_?" Harry asked, slightly amused with this eccentric youth in front of him.

"I don't think the arch enemy of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would be skulking about St. Clytemnestra's like a Dark wizard," Cecil said flatly. "It just doesn't add up."

"Cecil," Quirrell said coldly. "We're leaving."

"Where to?" Cecil shouted back. "I don't want to go with you."

"Why not?" asked Quirrell. "Don't talk back to me like that; I'm your father."

"Yeah, that you are," Cecil grumbled. "But you're not a decent one."

"We'll sort everything out on the way home," Stanzi said. "Everything will be fine. And, rest assured, if something _does _go wrong, I'm not going to hesitate to call the Aurors." Quirrell blanched, but he followed Stanzi. Cecil trudged behind reluctantly. "Harry, I'm going to have to repay you and your friends for restoring Cecil and me."

"This won't be our last meeting," Cecil said. "I'm sure of that. I'll be bothering you three up at Hogwarts as a First Year when the new school year begins."

It didn't take Harry, Ron, and Hermione too long to make it back to Hogwarts. They entered through a back way, and planned on heading to the Gryffindor Common Room. After all, it was around ten o' clock; dinner was over and done with. "What a pity we had to miss Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock's welcoming ceremony," Hermione said. "I wanted to meet her and ask her a couple of questions about some of her works I have read."

"That's not the only thing I regret not doing," Ron said, and then laughed. "We forgot to head back to the Lair and sign out with Cassandra's mum."

"Oh well," Hermione said. "If what Lisa's been saying about lamiae is true, then Lydia Von Dorian is not only a vampire, but a lamia as well…one out of twenty still alive. Also, Quirrell somewhat proved another rumor Lisa had started about Cassandra's family; the Von Dorian-Snapes—or at least the parents—are Death Eaters."

"When is the next time we can head over to the Lair?" Ron asked. "When Lydia said she wanted to be a proper hostess next time, I'd be more than glad to find out what that means to her. I'm sure that she can throw quite a nice party. It'd be next to impossible to throw a bad one in a house like that."

"I didn't get a chance to have a long chat with Lydia on ManiFest night," Harry said, still not sure whether Quirrell and Lisa had been telling the truth about Lydia Von Dorian. He could believe Claudius Snape was a Death Eater, but Lydia seemed to be such a friendly person whenever Claudius was out of the room. "Wait until—"

"Until what, Potter?" said a deep, droning voice. Harry looked up and moaned; Snape had spotted him. "What exactly were you, Granger, and Weasley doing up at this hour?"

"May I ask you the same question?" Harry retorted.

"No, you may not," Snape said flatly. "What I do is none of your business, and you would be best to keep out of it."

"The same goes for you," Harry said, getting a bit sharp-tongued. "My actions are private."

"I am a teacher, and you are a student," Snape said, talking to Harry as if he was a small child that didn't know any better. "Therefore, I am in a state of authority, and you have to answer to me, even though I don't have to answer to you. Now, tell me what you and your friends were doing out of your Common Room without your Hawkbane Cards, why I didn't see you at dinner, and make sure to tell me quickly before I decide to give all three of you detention."

"That won't be necessary," said a raspy female voice. Snape and the students turned around to see who had spoken. An olive-skinned woman with a few silver streaks in her unruly black hair was looking at Harry, and cast him a rather amused look. When she smiled, Harry and Hermione both jumped back in surprise; her teeth were needle-sharp and her tongue was a crimson color. She walked up to Harry, gently pushing Snape aside, and lowered her pair of trapezoid mirror sunglasses to get a better look at the young celebrity. She smiled even more. "Hello."

"Who are you?" Hermione asked. Harry suddenly realized this woman had orange eyes…rusty orange. Looking at her again, he made the assumption that she was in her late fifties to early sixties, and that she was very gaunt and bony. "Are you Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, the lady that wrote countless books about the Dark Arts?"

"Well, yes _and_ no," said the woman quizzically. "I _was_ Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock before I became your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now I have become _Professor_ _Hemlock_." She reached out to shake her slightly-chubby hand with Hermione's. "And you must be Miss Hermione Granger; I overheard Professor what's-his-name—"

"Snape," Snape said in a rather amused voice. "I'm Severus Snape, one of your most loyal fans, Dr. Hemlock. I've attended each seminar you have given ever since I was a Second Year. The entire faculty was delighted to have you arrive over here to fill in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position until a permanent replacement can be made." The way Snape looked at Hemlock was unsettling to Harry; it was the same look that most people gave _him_…it was the look of admiration.

"We all know I'm not doing this for the money," Dr. Hemlock said dismissively. "I am here to take a look at the people that will soon become full-fledged witches and wizards in our society. I want to make a difference in the way this generation thinks. I failed my son, so I will not fail my students in the same way. If anything, a deeper look at the Dark Arts will only aid how the students react to their environment." She let out a long yawn, showing off her abnormal mouth again. "Well, I shall be heading to my quarters now. It is midnight, and I cannot do my normal tasks. I tired myself out in front of all the students at dinner."

"You _will_ be okay, won't you?" Snape asked, sounding concerned for the older woman. "I could escort you back to your quarters, if you like. It has been a long time since you were last at Hogwarts, I can imagine."

"Yes," Dr. Hemlock said. "Forty-two years, actually." She turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione and added, "I'm looking forward to being your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This will give me something new to do, and will also give me a chance to not only broaden my horizons, but meet some interesting people." Despite her somewhat unpleasant appearance, Dr. Hemlock seemed to be a friendly individual. "It is always a pleasure to meet people that have _not_ read my books."

"That's understandable," Ron said. "That way people will see the person behind the Dark Arts Guru."

"Exactly," Dr. Hemlock said enthusiastically. "I'm tired from my journey over here, and from having all those people in the Great Hall bombard me with question-after-question. I will be ready to teach Second and Fifth Years tomorrow, but not right now. I must get some rest and recover my strength." With that, she walked off toward Turret Eight.

"You _do_ have your Hawkbane Cards, right?" Hermione asked Harry and Ron. Luckily, everybody _had_ carried their cards with them. Immediately, the trio shoved them into Snape's face. "We had a permit to be out, Professor Snape. We DID have our cards!"

"Fine, then," Snape said drowsily as he walked off.

Suddenly, Harry saw another person coming down the hall with a few friends…_Malfoy_.

Ok folks. I've decided to start a new trend...from now on, I'll include a link to a story that I've read that I think you'll like, or one from a friend. This time it will be Harry Potter and the Quest for Freedom, by Crystal Lupin and NitaPotter. You can find it under the author name NitaPotter or at this link: http/ read and review and tell them both that Morty sent ya! Ciao!


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two:

The Midnight Duel Fulfilled

"Hello, Potter," said Malfoy. "I've been looking for you all night. Where have you been?"

As Harry got a closer look, he could see that five people had come with Malfoy; Pansy, Rick, Marcus, Crabbe, and Goyle. "Practicing Necromancy," Harry said curtly. "Nonetheless, Malfoy, it isn't any of your business."

"Actually, I was wondering about something," Malfoy said; Crabbe and Goyle sniggered from behind him. "Shut _up_, you two! Anyways, Potter…I was wondering if you'd like to meet in the mirrored room and, perhaps, finish that Midnight Duel I didn't show up for the first time?" He laughed. "That _was_ back when we were First Years, but I can guarantee you I'll be there if you agree to come."

"Harry," Ron said, "You could beat up Malfoy _easily_. Isn't this a waste of your time?"

Harry wasn't listening to Ron; only Malfoy's voice rang clear in his mind. "To make sure you arrive, Malfoy, how about you and I go in there at the same time? In the same company, even."

"That sounds fair to me," Malfoy said, turning toward Marcus. "Make sure you and Pansy are my only spectators. I don't want Crabbe, Goyle, _or _Rick to show up this time."

"Would you two mind keeping an eye on the Duel?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"If you bring your friends for back-up, then we could always cancel the Duel," Malfoy said passively. "I know you want to _prove_ yourself to me that you're better, but I don't need a Duel to make a fool out of you, Potter. You can do that on your own."

"Oh, _fine_!" Hermione snapped at Malfoy. "Harry, we'll be in the Gryffindor Common Room if you need us. Just _try_ to not only be careful, but make Malfoy feel sorry for bothering us."

"If Ron and Hermione can't come, neither can Marcus and Pansy," Harry said to Malfoy.

"I can understand the logic in that," Marcus said, yanking Pansy away from Malfoy. With that, Malfoy's friends left. Ron and Hermione soon followed.

Only Harry and Malfoy were in the hall. "Okay, Potter," Malfoy said, "let's go to the mirrored room. Just to make sure neither of us was going against his word, let's walk into the room together."

"That makes sense," Harry said, walking behind Malfoy suspiciously. "It's not like you to volunteer for a fair fight."

"We _are_ secretly on the same side, though, right?" Malfoy sneered. "If you ever tell my friends that, I'll kill you. Don't think that I'll loaf around; that's a promise I can keep." At that moment, both Harry and Malfoy stepped out of the stairwell and into the mirrored room Cassandra had shown them back in late September. "She was right; the light _is_ too bright in here…I think I'm going to get a headache."

"Cancel the duel, then," Harry spat. "It's not like my life's stuck around fighting you." Malfoy looked at Harry as if he had threatened to kill him with a toothpick or something just as ridiculous.

"It _isn't_? Well, I'm surprised," Malfoy jeered, folding his arms. He then began to laugh, of all abominations. The laughter seemed to echo, and then the mirrors showed certain areas of the castle. Godric was running around Hagrid's Hut, Furrier was snapping at Pyrites for doing something stupid, Snape was bothering Dr. Hemlock by telling her how much he loved her books, Snitchgrass and McGonagall were teasing Trelawney, and Blaise and Rhianna were in the Restricted Section of the library, looking at a book about Dark Alchemy. "Hold on…why is one of the mirrors showing a _crow_?"

Harry looked to the far left to see that Malfoy was not lying; one of the mirrors had indeed gotten a crow into its focus. "I bet that this is the unmarked security room," Harry grumbled. It was odd that nobody was in there besides Malfoy and himself, but even stranger that a bird was a focus point. The magic mirrors reminded him somewhat of Muggle security cameras at the school he had attended before. But it also reminded him of the Marauder's Map, which was something he hoped Malfoy _never_ found out about. He had managed to keep it secret for three years, but the possibility of theft was always there.

"If that was the case, how come nobody is in here but _us_?" Malfoy hissed, looking around. "The only other person I see in here is you, Potter—"

"Why, that's only because you can't see _me_," said a voice Harry recognized, but Malfoy did not.

"Sebastian!" Harry said, surprised. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have been the Security Ghost ever since my death," Sebastian said, laughing a bit. "It's not like I'm going to hand you over to Argus or something like that. I think I'll leave you two to your fun and games."

"You think this is going to be something petty, sir?" Malfoy snapped. "You're sadly mistaken; Potter and I are going to Duel."

"In that case," Sebastian said, appearing out of thin air, "I'll simply say that I didn't see anything up here. Good night, lads; have fun."

"Don't worry," said Harry, "we will." After the friendly ghost left the room, he glared at Malfoy. "Now…where were we?"

"Well, we _were_ about to Duel," Malfoy said. "I'm tired of waiting, Potter; I'm ready to begin." With those words, he turned around and pulled out his wand. "I don't care if you're ready or not; I'm not going to wait on you."

"That's fine by me," Harry said, his wand already in his right hand. "But, I think we should have two rules."

"Okay; I come up with one, and you come up with the other." Malfoy smiled evilly. "That sounds fair."

"First off, no Death Curses," Harry spat. "I know you want to use the _Avada Kedavra_ on me, but no Death Curses in our Duel, Malfoy." If he was going to lose his life to anyone, he'd rather it be Lord Voldemort than a git like Draco Malfoy.

"My turn," Malfoy said, laughing. "I am going to say…no _Expelliarmus_, okay?" With those words, he pointed his wand at Harry and shouted, _"Priaxa Nervata!"_

After a few moments of a tingling sensation, Harry could feel his entire skeleton pulsating the burning hot lead to the rest of his body. _"Laconus Anata!"_ he shouted, hoping that it would affect Malfoy exactly how he wanted it to. He had wanted Malfoy to turn into a marshmallow, but was surprised to see him become a Dementor. "How did you—"

"You thought of one," Malfoy's voice grated. _"Intolerarus!"_ he thundered, pointing his wand back at Harry.

This was a Curse that Morty had not covered in Curses & Rootwork, and it was the first time Harry had felt the Intolerable Curse. For a long time, it felt like little animals were tearing him to pieces with their tiny teeth. It was overwhelmingly painful, and he wanted it to stop. He looked over at Malfoy, and sighed; his nemesis still looked like a Dementor. "Damn," Harry muttered, flinching again at a nip from one of the Curse bites. Angry, Harry shouted, "_Petrificus Totalis!_" Malfoy didn't freeze into place, for some odd reason. "What the—"

"_Amplifius!_" Malfoy snarled. The pain intensified in Harry's body, and it felt that the nipping "creatures" tearing at him were beginning to chomp instead of nibble. "I'd use the Unforgivable Curses if I knew Iwouldn't end up in Azkaban." With each squirm Harry made, Malfoy just laughed and shouted, "_Amplifius!_" There was no ease in the pain, and it constantly worsened. Harry's entire body was aching, and it was so bad, he had lost control of his own actions. His mind couldn't think of anything besides the pain, and he was trying to find a way to ease himself of the suffering.

'_I could kill myself_,' he thought, but soon realized that wouldn't work out like he wanted it to. The only thing his death would accomplish would be an easy return of power for Voldemort, which was something he did not want to happen. "_Amplifius! AMPLIFIUS!_" The laughter came along with Malfoy's magical taunt, and it just seemed to worsen at a rapid speed. "What's the matter, Potter?" Malfoy said. "Won't you give up to me, or are you too bigheaded to admit I'm better than you? According to what Cain was telling me, you must have gotten that arrogance of yours from your father—"

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Harry rose up and pointed his wand at Malfoy. "You'll regret that remark."

"Go on," Malfoy said, laughing. "That Curse I put on you was the Intolerable Curse. Those little nips you were feeling were nothing more than me draining your energy out of your body."

"Take it off, or I'll use a Curse that Morty showed me in private," Harry knew there was no such Curse, but (as far as he knew) Malfoy wasn't a Legilimens. "_Laconus Prioritum_." Malfoy's pointed, pale face had lost all of its color.

"You mean to tell me that Skylarke showed you something outside of class!" Malfoy was bewildered, and obviously did not want to find out what trick Harry had up his sleeve. "Hold on, why would he—"

"Where did you learn the Intolerable?" Harry asked suddenly. "Did Snape show you how to do that?"

"Snape doesn't show me how to do anything but make a decent potion in class," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he likes me too much…oh well. The person that showed me how to do the Intolerable was Dr. Hemlock. Well, not directly, but through her books on Curses, I stumbled across that one and decided it was worth practicing. Skylarke handed me the book, so I must give him due credit as well." He suddenly leapt back to his feet and gave Harry another blast of the Intolerable. "_Amplifius_!"

Harry almost doubled over; the pain was beginning to become far too strong. He had to think of _something_ to stop Malfoy's curse. He tried to remember the spell Skylarke had used around Halloween to bounce back curses and attacks at opponents, and it suddenly came back to him. "I've got it," he muttered, reassuring himself this was going to work.

As Malfoy raised his wand again to shout another round of amplification, Harry shouted, "_Ricochaise_!" Immediately, the curse bounced back at Malfoy (completely amplified) and struck him at the same magnitude it had harmed Harry. For Harry, the pain was gone; he had sent it all toward Malfoy. '_I guess paying attention in Curses & Rootwork came in handy this time_,' he thought '_Morty, I really owe you one_.' "Give up, Malfoy?"

"Never," Malfoy said. "I cannot back down from a fight with you; it would be too embarrassing!" He pointed his wand back at Harry and shouted, "_Magarus Avedra!_" Harry was thrashed all around the room, just as Necro had done to Nezura on the Hogwarts Express. "I should have practiced this one a little further," Malfoy said in a mock-regretful tone. "_Magarus Avedra!_"

This was definitely an illegal Wizard's Duel; Malfoy was muttering more spells than Harry. However, this was the way Harry preferred to fight; it was more like reality. If he could beat Malfoy, the thrashings would stop. "_Sophorus Moritum!_" he shouted, getting Malfoy to flip backwards.

"_Priaxa Nervata!_"

"_Ricochaise!"_

As the reflecting spell hit Malfoy, and the Priaxa Curse landed on him with full force, he began to scream in pain. "Take it off!" he yelped. "Take it off!"

"_Priaxa Requiescat_," Harry muttered, getting Malfoy off the bone-burning spell.

Malfoy collapsed to the floor momentarily, gasping for air. "Thanks, Potter," he said smoothly.

"Not a problem, Malfoy," replied Harry.

"_MAGARUS AVEDRA!_" Malfoy hissed with full force. Harry bounced around the room like a rubber power-ball, hitting a lot of sharp objects as well as the ceiling and floor. Wherever Malfoy pointed his wand was where Harry was flung next. It felt like his bones were going to break, and it was clear that he was already going to receive some rather brutal bruises. As his nose hit the curved tip of a mirror, blood began to run down his face. His left ankle made a loud _snap_ noise as he landed. Harry couldn't take it anymore; he raised his wand up in the air, and then dropped it to his side to indicate that he surrendered. The duel was officially over. "So, you're giving up?"

"What's it look like I'm doing, Malfoy?" Harry spat back painfully. "I think you twisted my ankle. Are you going to repair it?"

"You'll live," Malfoy jeered as he walked out of the mirrored room. "Let Sebastian take care of it. He'll be back sooner or later, I'm sure of it. Goodbye, my…er…_friend_." With that, he slammed the door, leaving Harry alone.

"It was awful," Harry grumbled at breakfast, looking down at his poppy-seed muffin. "After the duel, he left me on the floor." He let out a long, heavy sigh. "I'm glad that Aurelius showed up and made sure I got back to Gryffindor Tower. I wonder why he went up there, but I was relieved to see that he came."

"Aurelius…as in Aurelius _Fallowin_?" Hermione said, shivering. "You know _Aurelius_?"

"Yeah, I do," Harry said, "And I know he's virtually an innocent man; the only thing he's guilty of was the time Gringotts got vandalized. It was just a little spray paint."

"Harry," Ron said, "Aurelius Fallowin is _not_ Sirius Black. I'm pretty sure he wasn't friends with your mum or dad, and just because he's another escaped Azkaban convict, it doesn't mean he's like Sirius. If you think he's innocent, then perhaps you think the Lestranges are innocent people too?"

"Stop twisting my words," Harry said flatly. "Aurelius was his brother's scapegoat, and it isn't his fault that he's the one that landed in Azkaban for something he didn't do. Sure, he's a vandal, but he's not a thief and he didn't kill the Skylarke family." He looked at his two friends. "Morty confirmed that."

Harry decided to see what the professors were doing over at the teachers' table. McGonagall and Sinistra were quietly eating their meals, but not doing anything else. Snape was looking over the Daily Prophet with Morty, who seemed to be back to his old self, if not a bit more cheery than usual. Hagrid was talking in a friendly way to Dr. Hemlock, who was listening to what he had to say with childlike amazement.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Rubeus," said Dr. Hemlock in her grackle-like voice. "I never knew _that_ about kelpies. I'm amazed at your knowledge of magical creatures, but how is it that you know so much when you never got a chance to finish your education formally at Hogwarts?"

"Well, Professor Hemlock, it's not that I didn't wanna finish my learnin', but it was because someone turned me in for somethin' that I didn't do." Hagrid beamed. "Look a' me now, though; ain't I a good Care of Magical Creatures teacher?"

"I'm sure you are," Dr. Hemlock said in a friendly way. She turned toward Skylarke and said, "Mortimer, I still cannot believe that a skilled Cursemaster like you would be teaching students up here. I am _delighted_ to be working with you!"

"Thanks," Morty said in a friendly way. Unlike some of the other members of the faculty, he treated Dr. Hemlock like any other teacher, and didn't get excited by her presence. "I am sure several people here are glad you took the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. Most people don't want to fool with that position anymore, since nobody stays any longer than a year." He let out a sigh as he took a bite of his bagel. "But, it's a mandatory course."

"Would you like another pastry, Dr. Hemlock?" Snape asked suddenly, looking up from his paper. "I could get you one if you would prefer that."

"No," Dr. Hemlock said, "I'm okay, and I really shouldn't be eating stuff with so much _sugar_ in it. Look at me; I'm a little on the blubbery side." In Harry's opinion, the opposite was true; Dr. Hemlock looked like a bag of bones. "Thanks, er…what was your name again?"

"Severus Snape," Snape said flatly, a trace of irritability beginning to bubble up from his voice. "For the umpteenth time, my name is Severus Snape."

"No need to get huffy about it, Severus," said Dr. Hemlock. "I'm just beginning to get a little old; you'll have to put up with me being a little forgetful."

Darius's white hair was very messy when he came to sit down next to Harry. "Hello," he said in a rather airy-sounding voice. He was breathing quite fast. "I just got back from my morning jog, and I hope you don't mind if I sit with you fine people instead of the other teachers. Most of them have been nothing but jerks to me this week." He looked at Ron and Hermione and said, "Why the long faces, you two? Do I need to leave?"

"Not at all, Professor Ahsimal!" said Ron. "Er…I think I owe you an apology."

"Why?" Darius asked, lowering his rimless glasses. "Why do you think that, Mr. Weasley?"

"I wasn't exactly the nicest person to you when the whole Slayer frenzy was running around like wildfire." Ron turned a bit red in the face. "I really like your class, and you're not that bad of a person, but I guess I could have been friendlier toward you."

"Apology accepted," Darius said after taking a deep breath. He took a bite out of his breakfast sausage, and then had a very long sip of his splipberry nectar. "Actually, I didn't even notice that you were acting rude in my class, Weasley." He then elbowed Hermione and asked, "So…what were you guys talking about before I joined you over here?"

"Aurelius," Harry said curtly. "Ron and Hermione think he's dangerous."

"Have you met him?" Darius asked Ron and Hermione.

"Well, not in person," Hermione said, looking at Ron nervously, "but we all know why he was in there, and all of us know what he's capable of doing."

Darius started to laugh. "You two are making mountains out of molehills; a very common trait among humans."

Ron turned toward Darius and sighed. "And I guess you vampires are perfect?"

Darius shrugged. "No. Sometimes we can be better than humans, but I don't hold the fact that the three of you are human against you."

"You're too kind," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know I should be meaner," Darius said, taking another sip of his drink, "like Severus. I know how much all of you adore your Potions Master." He then got up and said, "You must excuse me; I must find Poppy and ask her if I can have a blood bag. You see, I need them to refrain myself from biting students or other faculty members." He then let out a short laugh and said, "I almost bit Argus once…and I never tried _that_ again."

"I can understand why," Ron said, eyeing Darius suspiciously. "Filch doesn't sound like he'd be too overly tasty."

"I didn't get a chance to try his blood; just the thought of attacking Argus repelled me from doing so for a second time. He's one of the few faculty members that hasn't given me a hard time for being a vampire, so I have a sense of respect for our school's caretaker." Darius got up and said, "Well, I must prepare myself for a wonderful day in Necromancy. Class_ will_ be held today after sunset."

"Where are you going?" asked Hermione.

"Since you pried, I must tell you I am going to my private quarters," Darius said with a tinge of confusion in his velvety voice. His eyes were wide open, but he was apparently wondering why Hermione wanted to know where he was making his next destination.

"What are you going to do up there?" Ron inquired.

"Fine, _Dolores_, I'll tell you," Darius sarcastically retorted. "I'm going to change into something prettier as soon as I get up there. This mundane teachers' robe I'm wearing right now does nothing for me, so I'm going to change into something green with red roses on it. _Have a nice day!_" With that, he marched off to change his clothes. Behind him was a great horned owl that Harry recognized as Morty's owl. "Come, Archimedes," Darius grumbled. "You and I are going to run away from Iphigenia, before she notices that we're gone."

"Well, that was odd," Hermione said, and then glared at Harry. "He's not coming back over here in the distant future, is he? You know Ahsimal gives me the shivers. Secondly, I don't think we should trust a man that was at one time Voldemort's second-in-command, even if he _does_ cross-dress at times and giggle like a girl." She shuddered for a moment and said, "He's not normal, even from a vampire point-of-view."

"What's on the agenda for today?" asked Ron.

"Care of Magical Creatures, Divination for you two—and Arithmancy for me—Potions, Curses & Rootwork, and finally, _Necromancy_." She gagged. "We're messing around with dead bodies again today…how utterly disgusting."

"Do we still go up to Skylarke's classroom for Curses & Rootwork?" asked Ron. "He died in there, so I'm curious…do we return to there or somewhere else?"

"We'll be meeting up with Morty right outside the Restricted Section in the Library," Harry said. "I found that out when we sneaked into the kitchen for a late-night snack. He's a pretty nice guy, as far as I know."

"Even so, he seemed to provoke the Death Eaters enough to the point where they tried to exterminate his whole clan," Ron shuddered. "For a long time, everyone believed that the entire Skylarke family had been annihilated…and I thought the same thing until I realized that we've got _Mortimer_ Skylarke teaching us Curses & Rootwork." He let out a long yawn. "Even though he's teaching us a Dark Art, I feel that it's really beginning to come in quite handy."

"How so?" Hermione sounded appalled that Ron would even _suggest_ something like that.

"Did you see the look on Quirrell's face when I told him that I had learned so much from Skylarke in Curses & Rootwork?" Ron laughed a bit. "That was pure gold, Hermione."

"In Care fer Magical Creatures today," Hagrid began, "we'll be doin' our lesson on squonks."

"What the bloody Hell is that?" Ron asked Harry quietly.

"I have no idea, Ron," Harry said, "ask Hagrid, not me."

"Okay, then," Ron said, and raised his hand. "Hagrid, what exactly _are_ squonks?"

"Yer abou' to find out," Hagrid said, laughing. "Jus' remember," he began to pick up a beaten-up blue shoebox, "squonks are not happy critters, _ever_. They whine an' cry all the time, unless yer successful in calming 'em down." He shook the shoebox and said, "I'm goin' to agitate this one—don't worry, everyone, squonks are harmless—by shaking the box." Suddenly, Harry and everybody else heard something beginning to whimper and sob inside the box. "The trick is to not let the squonk tell you what to do; if ya cheer 'im up, he'll want ta be yer pal forever."

"What do they look like?" asked Marcus. His eyes were fixated on that worn-out box and nothing else, not even the funny-looking robe Hagrid was wearing.

"Well, here's the little devil himself," Hagrid said, opening up the box and picking the squonk up. It was a rather ugly creature, so ugly it was almost cute. It was about the size of a two-month-old kitten, hairless, and rather fat. Humongous moles were all over it, and (like Rick's famous mole) it had a couple of black hairs sticking up out of the bigger ones. It had a pig-like purplish nose, and a couple of saber tusks coming from its chubby face. It had four stubby legs that flailed in the air as Hagrid picked it up, and its beady brown eyes glared at the half-giant. To Harry, the squonk looked like a living potato with a head. "Ain't he cute, everyone?"

"No, he's not," Malfoy said, gagging. "Ugh; it's hideous."

"Where do they live?" Marcus asked curiously, looking at the squonk with fascination.

"My, my, Cantarus!" Hagrid said, laughing. "Yer full o' questions today! Why is that?"

"Splipberry nectar," Marcus quickly responded. "I drank splipberry nectar at breakfast." He looked at the sobbing squonk and asked, "Is the whole class going to try to cheer this thing up?" He sounded quite dejected, obviously feeling pity for the ugly little creature.

"No," Hagrid said, "Yer goin' to be working in groups o' three today with a squonk between ya." He pointed at a pile of moving shoeboxes and said, "No more than two per group, okay? I'm one-short of having enough for everybody. Don't run all over yourselves trying ter get in the line first; there's plenty o' squonks to go around."

"How nasty," Malfoy grumbled as he picked up his squonk, which had immediately begun to cry. Its tears hit the ground and caused the grass to wilt. "Are you _sure_ these little monsters are harmless?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Hagrid said. "But, they can be a bit o' trouble if they're very sad; squonk tears have a bad effect on people, plants, and the atmosphere. It won't kill ya or anything like that, but it _will_ make you feel lousy. Ya got to cuddle 'im for a moment an' let me tell you somethin' abou' squonks that's pretty neat, Malfoy…there's a surprise that comes along with a happy squonk, an' I'm sure everyone will like it."

"How do you cheer something up that's this grotesque?" Malfoy whined. "My squork won't stop making a teary mess everywhere. Look at what's happening to the poor grass!" He sounded concerned, but everyone knew better; Malfoy didn't care about the grass, and neither did anyone else.

"Firstly, Malfoy," Hagrid said, "he ain't a '_squork_,'; he's a '_squonk_.' And secondly, don't be afraid to cuddle with 'im. He ain't goin' ta hurt ya unless you make him mad."

"How do you do that?" asked Marcus. "Inquiring minds want to know, Hagrid." He was petting his squonk, trying to appease it. "There, there, little guy…everything's going to be okay."

"Just keep telling 'im that, Cantarus," Hagrid said, laughing. "Yer getting the hang o' things with' squonks _fast_!" He turned toward Hermione and asked, "Do you know what squonks do once they become happy?"

"Yes, I do," Hermione said, gingerly opening her box and squeamishly poking her squonk. "Happy squonks become cute and fluffy, and also bring good fortune to their joy-bringers." She gagged as she said the next part, "And happy squonk pee is the strongest antidote for insanity known to the Wizarding World."

Neville's ears perked up at what Hermione had said, and tried to feed his squonk a carrot. It retaliated by spitting it back out and crying. "Well, now it's official; I hate carrots, and you hate carrots." He pulled out a piece of chocolate and said, "Okay, little guy, _please_ eat this up." The squonk ate and began to stop crying, but it still looked pretty sulky.

"Aren't you a cutie?" Lisa cheered with her squonk. "Yes, you are!" The squonk cried even louder than before and tried to scratch Lisa with its little paws, unsuccessfully. "Why you—"

"Look, Hagrid!" Neville said happily. "I got my squonk to smile at me, and it's becoming a fluff ball!"

Suddenly, there was a _squish_ sound, and the foul aroma of very strong dog manure filled the air. Everyone gagged in agony as they smelled it. "Oh, gross," Naomi whined. "What's that dreadful smell?" She had her fingers over her nose.

"I think it's doggy doo," said Marcus. "Hagrid…"

Hagrid took a big whiff of the foul air and sighed. "Well, I guess Fang _really _had to go…Malfoy, where's your squonk?"

All eyes were on Malfoy, who had the snobbish look of dreadful glee upon his pale face. He lifted his foot up and groaned. "Whoops…I guess I _accidentally _stepped on my squork." Hagrid and the students watched in agony as they saw the mangled body of Malfoy's _squonk_ appear under his foot. While everyone else acknowledged that the fresh squonk corpse was the epicenter of the nasty smell, Malfoy wiped his foot off in the grass, as a person typically does when he steps in a dog's mess. "How nasty," he grumbled, "If I'd known it would have smelled like _that_ when it was dead, I would have considered stepping elsewhere instead of on the squork."

"For the last time, Malfoy…it's pronounced _squonk_," Hagrid grumbled. Off in the distance, a dog barked.

"Well, Harry," Ron said glumly, "it's off to Divination we go. I'm sure Trelawney and Firenze are in there, waiting for us to go in and be bored to death." With that, the two friends rushed up the staircase to Trelawney's room. Marcus was in there, sitting by himself. When Harry looked closer, he could see that his Slytherin friend was carrying a squonk in his pocket, no doubt the same one Marcus had been working with in Care of Magical Creatures. "Oh, how gross," Ron said, pointing at Marcus. "He's carrying one of those _things_ in his pocket."

"They're not gross," Marcus snapped. "I actually gave mine a name, and I plan to keep him as a pet."

"Well, then," said Ron, "what are you naming him?"

"Bacchus," Marcus replied. "Sure, it's inappropriate _now_, but wait until I perk this little fellow up. Then he'll be happy all the time, and he'll be the best pet imaginable!"

"You're becoming just as bad as Hagrid, Marcus," Ron grumbled as he took his seat. "In comes Trelawney on the count of one…two…"

"Welcome back to Divination!" Trelawney said merrily as she came in. Firenze came in as well, but looked rather bored. "My Inner Eye has been giving me hints as to who the gorgonix dwells inside, and—even more importantly—who will be its next _victims_!" She looked around the room and pointed a finger at Ron. "Someone in your family will soon fall into temptation." She wailed melodramatically and flailed her arms around the room. Firenze rolled his eyes, but still said nothing. "I can see it now! One of your brothers is in grave danger!"

"Sure," said Ron, obviously not taking Trelawney's '_warning_' seriously. "Do you see anything _else_ in my future…anything _cheery_, perhaps?"

"Inwardly, you are hurt," Trelawney said sadly. "Ronald, my dear, did you end your relationship with your girlfriend?"

"She ended it with me, not the other way around," Ron said flatly. "I don't want to talk about Celia."

"She won't be the last; I'll give you my soothsayer's guarantee," Trelawney said, laughing. "I see a tall, feminine blonde in your future."

"Careful, Ron," Harry whispered teasingly. "She could be talking about another pink Mood Drop encounter with Malfoy."

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Ron said, quietly sniggering after Trelawney had left.

"YOU!" Trelawney shouted at Marcus. "I see lots of death in your family. Your mother will rot alive, and your father goes around, dressed all in black. The black…the black…it symbolizes death _always_…" She wailed some more.

"She's worse than the squonks," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Once more, we shall have another mundane day in Potions," Hermione whined as she took her seat next to Harry. "I really don't feel like putting up with Snape today. What about you? Do you think that he'll let us keep our squonks in here?"

"I doubt it," said Blaise from behind, "but it's not like we have any other choice. Hagrid asked us to keep our squonks with us at all times, so we can't back down from a professor's orders, even if it interferes with something Snape tells us to do." He looked at his squonk and fed it a pretzel. "Okay, Groucho, there you go…" He looked up at Harry and asked, "Where's your squonk? Is it in your bag?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said automatically. Yes, his squonk was in his bag (as far as he knew), but he really didn't care at the moment. He hadn't even named the ugly little creature.

Snape waltzed in with a tightly-pursed smile on his thin face. He pulled out his wand with a quick, jerky movement, and got the notes to appear on the board. "Hagrid has informed me that you began your unit on squonks today. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," the entire class said flatly, in unison. "That is true."

"In that case," Snape began, "I felt it would be appropriate to show you a Tonic of Misery that is made from squonk tears and a few other ingredients." With that, he pulled out a cage that had a squonk held captive inside. He shook the cage brutally until the squonk was not only dizzy, but very irritable. It began to cry like a wounded toddler, and the tears were so powerful that they corroded through the iron bars. Snape put a glass vial underneath the squonk to catch the tears, and then removed it quickly as soon as it was filled. Harry noticed that the Potions Master was wearing a leather glove over his hand, and even the glove was melting away.

"Professor," Malfoy said. "I was wondering…could I have your squonk after this lesson? Mine died during Care of Magical Creatures."

"Oh, sure," Snape said, tossing the grumpy creature at Malfoy as soon as his enormous glass vial was filled to the top with tears. "I have no need of this beast anymore. Therefore, you may keep it." With those harsh words, he lifted up the vial to show that it was full. He added four drops of the solution to his cauldron, which was filled with pure water. "Follow my example and try to do as I do."

Everyone knew their squonks were already crying, so they picked the loathsome things up and got them to cry. The only person that needed to bum tears from someone was Neville, whose squonk had already become a happy ball of fluff. The water in the cauldron began to let off steam, but the cauldron itself was very cold outwardly. "Next on our list of items to place inside is two bat wings and root of," Snape's lips curled up into a repugnant smile that was just about as nasty-looking as the squonk itself, "_hemlock_."

After everyone did as Snape said, the order was to stir the solution for half a minute. "Has anyone fallen behind?" Nobody responded to Snape, not even Neville. "Well, I'm surprised, Longbottom. You usually ruin your potion around this time."

"Sir, I'm not having trouble with this potion yet," Neville said nervously as he finished stirring.

"How wonderful," Snape said icily and walked toward Harry. "The final item we will be placing in this simple solution is the one that might actually get someone hurt." Several people looked at the Potions Master nervously, but he paid them no heed as he continued. "Do you know what _this_ is?" He was holding up a black, slimy blob that smelled like grapes and feta cheese.

"I know what it is!" Hermione blurted.

"Now why am I _not_ surprised?" Snape said very dryly.

"That's the heart of a Minotaur, left to rot for a week," Hermione said very loudly so everyone could hear her.

"You're correct, Granger," Snape said, "but I would prefer it if you would ask if you could answer the questions in the future instead of having you blurt out definitions and references haphazardly. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, Professor Snape," Hermione said sadly as she took her seat. "But, Professor, why are you making us do a potion that deals with decaying Minotaur hearts? Isn't that a very poisonous substance that could knock someone into a coma for weeks if held improperly?"

"You do not mistake its symptoms for another, Granger," Snape said, an actual smile appearing on his face…he looked quite sinister with the green smoke from the cauldron flowing around him. "But, you Slytherins and Gryffindors are Sixth Years now, one year away from being on the N.E.W.T. level officially, even though some of you are taking Advanced Placement with the members of the Hawkbane Society at the present time. Today, I decided I was going to try teaching in the same way as my friend, the Curses & Rootwork teacher. I am expecting you to act like young adults, just as Morty does every day you have him. Therefore, you will not put yourselves in danger as you handle the hearts. Think reasonably, and you'll be just fine." A green spark appeared in his dark eyes for a moment, and then flickered off. "But…if you _are_ being careless…I daresay you'll be waking up around the time for your preN.E.W.T.s to begin, as well as your regular class exams and Hawkbane Achievement tests if you are in the Advanced Placement program this year…that is, if you wake up at all." He pointed at a black willow basket and said, "The hearts are in there, prepared for you already by my Fourth Year detention students last week."

Nobody was in a rush to be the first to touch the Minotaur hearts, but everybody eventually got one. Blaise held his with two fingers and kept it as far away from his face as possible. "Zambini has the idea, everyone," Snape said, pointing at Blaise. "If you do not have a pair of gloves on, I strongly urge you to keep the heart far away from your nose and the rest of your face. If you _do_ have gloves, you may hold the heart in any way you please, just be _reasonable_. I'd hate to send one of my Slytherins to the infirmary because he or she was careless with a Minotaur heart." He said nothing about the Gryffindors, so it was inferred that he really didn't care if they were careless or not. "If anyone does something stupid, they'll not only pay for it, but his or her House will pay as well with a fifty point deduction."

Neville was very nervous as he gently put the Minotaur heart in his cauldron, and jumped as the potion shrieked for a couple of seconds. "I guess today was my day to be surprised," Snape said, walking toward Neville. "Your potion should scream for a brief moment, like Longbottom's, if you followed my directions properly." He flinched and said, "I have no other choice, Longbottom, two points _to_ Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor," Neville said, quite befuddled with the fact that he had just earned Gryffindor a couple of points. "Was putting the heart in there the last step?"

"No, but it was the final ingredient," Snape said coldly. "Stir it for five minutes counterclockwise, and then it will be ready to test." He turned toward Ron and said, "Stop squirming around like that. You're bound to end up in the infirmary if you keep that up."

Harry had—like Neville—begun stirring up the foul concoction. It had stopped screaming, and it smelled exactly like spoiled meat and unwashed gym socks, but it had become a rather pretty shade of purple. Five minutes passed by, and Harry finished. "Put the bottle I placed on your desk deep inside your solution and fill it to the brim with your Tonic of Misery. I shall test it quickly to see what grade I'll be giving you today."

"Don't empty it out until Snape grades me, okay?" Harry whispered to Hermione. "I can't afford to get a bad grade or a lack of credit in here."

"Oh, okay," Hermione said, sighing. She looked pretty dejected. "I sampled my own potion to see if I had done everything properly. I guess it works, because I feel terrible." She handed Harry her vial. "This one's mine. Do you mind giving that to Snape along with yours?"

"No, I don't mind," Harry said. "I hope you feel better soon, Hermione." After Hermione emptied out _her_ cauldron, Harry walked up to Snape and said, "I'm handing in Hermione's, too. She breathed in some of the fumes and isn't feeling oh so great."

"What a pity," Snape said sarcastically. "At least she knows it works." He looked at Hermione's and wrote 'O' down on her vial. "Let me see your tonic, Potter." Harry handed it over for Snape to inspect. "Yes, this looks like the actual tonic…I'm once more surprised today; nothing's wrong with it." Just like on Hermione's vial, Harry walked back with an 'O'.

"Thanks for the yellow Mood Drops, Harry," Hermione said merrily as she walked down the hall with Harry and Ron. "I'm feeling better already."

Suddenly, Ron had an epiphany. "I've got it!"

"Pardon?" Harry asked, confused. "What have you got, Ron?"

"I just figured out how we could make our squonks happy," Ron said, beaming. "Harry could I have three yellow Mood Drops?"

"Er…sure," Harry said, handing three yellow Drops over. "What are you going to do?"

"Watch this," Ron said, feeding his squonk a piece of the enchanted candy. Harry and Hermione did just as Ron did with their squonks. All three of the ugly little beasts became cute and cuddly fluff-balls immediately and began to rub up against their joy-bringers. "I can be a genius sometimes, too."

"Yes, you really can!" Hermione said, laughing. "I'm surprised I didn't think of that myself."

_**Hello everyone, Skylarke here. I hope you are enjoying my story. I just wanted to thank everyone who has read the story up to this point, and to please review if you have the time.**_

**_Oh, here's my story rec for this week: Same as last week...Harry Potter and the Quest for Freedom by CrystalLupin and NitaPotter. http/ forget to read and review for these two great friends of mine!_**


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter 23: Monster Hunts and Spook Lights

Instead of going to Turret Five, the Sixth Years rushed over to the restricted section of the library for Curses & Rootwork right after dinner. Morty was in there, reading a book on the Unforgivable Curses, when the students came in.

"Hello, everyone," he said politely. "I regret to inform you that neither you nor I are allowed in Turret Fifteen at this time, since my…er…_untimely_ _death_. Nice day today, was it not?" Nobody answered, and several students did nothing more than glare at their teacher.

"Just get on with it already, Professor Skylarke," Madame Pince hissed from the front. "You've been in here for an _hour_."

"We shall be staying for yet another hour, Madame Pince," said Morty very merrily. "Honestly, ever since my little accident occurred, I've been getting a better night's sleep. Nothing else can explain why I've got more stamina."

"Oh joy," grumbled several Slytherins.

"I do not appreciate your sarcasm," Morty warned ominously. "I have my Retribution Tonic with me, and you have learned from experience that I _will_ use it if I need to." The Slytherins quit complaining instantly and went to the back of the line. Lisa and her cronies were at the front, whispering amongst each other in a gossipy way. "That goes for you too, Lisa. I know you're the one that started that nasty lie about me having the gorgonix." With those few words, Lisa shut up and scurried to the back with the Slytherins. Harry got up to the front, but Ron and Hermione dwindled to the back. "Ah, Harry, thanks for informing everyone of our change of location for the present."

"Hey, it's not a problem, Professor," Harry replied.

Morty pulled him aside for a moment and whispered, "We are going to practice the Curse of Clumsiness today. At dinner, you told me that you had informed Draco Malfoy that I had shown you a Curse that we have not covered yet in class. How about I go ahead and show you this one beforehand so he'll think you were telling the truth?"

"That sounds good," Harry whispered back, sniggering a little. "You can be so devious."

"Well, I was a Slytherin, Harry; of _course_ I'm going to be devious," Morty said, pulling Harry aside. "The incantation is as follows: '_Falinoveris_.'" He winked, and his left eye began to twitch a little. "Care to give it a try on Draco?"

"I'd be delighted, as long as you don't write me up."

"Now, Harry, when have I _ever_ written you up?" Morty whispered back. "Go for it; I never liked that little brat anyway."

"Malfoy," Harry said, walking over toward the Slytherins. "I thought you might like to see the Curse that Morty taught me before mentioning it in here to everyone else."

"That's okay, Potter," Malfoy said coolly. "I can wait to see it, really. I'm in no hurry." However, Harry could tell there was a small hint of nervousness in Malfoy's voice.

"_Falinoveris!"_ Harry shouted loudly, pointing his wand directly at Malfoy, who stumbled back in surprise.

"What…what did you do to me?" Malfoy asked in a panic-stricken voice. He looked very much afraid.

"That, Draco, was the Curse of Clumsiness," Morty said, laughing. "You'll be a klutz for a few hours, and—in case you were wondering—I showed Harry how to do that before the rest of the class." He shrugged and said, "I can tell which students take this course seriously, and the ones that do the bare minimum to skid by with a barely passing grade."

"Harry, that was bloody brilliant," Ron said merrily. "You jinxed Malfoy wonderfully!"

"Thank you so much for not making a liar out of me," Harry whispered to Morty. "I really owe you one." Morty smiled a bit, and then moved to the front of the line to begin his lecture.

"You saw the Curse that Harry just put on Draco, right?" Everyone nodded, insisting that Morty continue and show them how to do the same thing. "That is the Curse I planned on showing you today." Not a single person was bored with that news; each one wanted to know how to klutz up an opponent. But as soon as Morty pulled out his wand, there was a thud. The entire class turned around to see Hermione had fallen over.

"She's out cold, Professor Skylarke!" shouted Lisa.

"Oh no," Morty said in a rather jittery-sounding voice. "What was your last class?"

"Potions," said Ron. "We just got out of Potions."

"What Potion were you making in there?" asked Morty.

"The Tonic of Misery," Ron answered.

"Does that involve Minotaur hearts, by any chance?"

"Yes, sir," Ron said. "He didn't supply us with gloves if we didn't have them on us already."

"Were you holding it as far away from your face as possible?" Morty asked. "They're worse if they've begun to rot." When nobody said anything in reply, his face blanched. "You mean to tell me that he made you touch decomposing Minotaur hearts with your _bare hands_!" Still, no answer came. "That perfectly explains why Hermione fell."

"Is she going to be okay?" Ron and Harry asked, both afraid of the answer that Morty was going to give them.

"If we get her to the Infirmary very quickly, I'm sure that she'll be out of this state around exam time," Morty replied. "Minotaur hearts are hardcore stuff, and can cause a lot of damage in a short amount of time. I'm surprised she's not the only one that got the Minotaurian Coma." At that moment, more people began to fall over, including Dean, Crabbe, Pansy and Seamus. "Change of plans, everyone; we're spending the class period helping these students get to the Infirmary. The sooner we see Poppy about this, the better; this poison kills very quickly." For someone nervous, Morty could keep a calm face.

The class ended up taking the unconscious students to the Infirmary instead of covering the Curse of Clumsiness. Ron asked when the next Curses & Rootwork class was going to be. "As soon as I can find an opening for it, I'll let you know," Morty announced, looking quite pale. "I'm encouraging you and the others to come visit anyone in here that is your friend. Positive auras can speed up the healing process."

"Why Hermione?" Harry whispered to Ron. "She was more careful than us, wasn't she?" When Ron didn't reply, Harry grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him. "_Wasn't she?_"

"I didn't see her wash her hands after Potions," Ron spat out. "She probably got some of the fluid in her eyes from rubbing them or something like that." He looked very distraught. "What are we going to do without her?"

"Go onward," Blaise whispered. "Be her support; didn't you hear Professor Skylarke? Positive auras can speed up the healing process."

"That's right," Rhianna agreed. "We'll visit her, too."

"Nobody asked for your help," Ron snapped.

"We're volunteering, that's all," Rhianna spat back at Ron. "Don't you want Hermione to be okay?"

"Yes, but—"

"But _what_, Weasley?" Rhianna looked quite angry by this point. "You don't want Slytherins to visit your precious friend?"

"Exactly," Ron said. "You didn't need to be a genius like Hermione to figure that one out."

"Fine, then," Rhianna muttered, looking very much upset from Ron's words. "We're leaving, Blaise. Let's go." As called, Blaise followed Rhianna silently, and did not look back.

Harry was not very happy with Ron for being so rude to two friends that had only wanted to help. He walked off with Blaise and Rhianna. "I'm sorry about that," he apologized.

"It's not your fault Weasley hates us," Blaise said sadly. "If he's your best friend, that's that. We'll fall into place somewhere else with a lower status, and that's all right."

"If being at the top means we'll end up acting like Ron, then we don't want to be your best friends," Rhianna said, not even looking at Harry. "Perhaps you and your best friend should concentrate on helping Hermione. Blaise and I are going to focus our attention elsewhere…on helping another friend that needs us." She looked toward Harry and said, "In your next Afterlight lesson, I'm sure Blaise will tell you what I'm talking about." She walked off and beckoned for Blaise to follow.

"I'll see you later, then," Blaise said before rushing toward Rhianna to catch up. "Hey, _slow _down, Rhi!"

"You didn't need to be rude with them," Harry said to Ron. "They were only trying to help."

"Who knows what their true intentions are, though," Ron said to Harry. "Look, I don't think meeting up with the Slytherins and making a few friends was a smart thing to do. Some of them that we've been chumming up to have Death Eaters for parents. People like that can't be trusted."

"What about Cassandra?" Harry thundered back. "Her parents are Death Eaters—if the rumors are true—and she went to Azkaban so Parenein wouldn't kill me."

"I think she's the only exception," Ron said. "I'm sure that Blaise, Marcus, Rhianna, and Rick wouldn't do anything like that for you."

"Rick's too occupied saving his own skin," Harry said calmly. "Yes, I can agree with you about Rick."

"Marcus dreams of becoming like his dad—"

"Ron, he was talking about becoming a _Slayer_ like his dad; not a Death Eater," Harry explained.

"How do you know that's what he meant?" Ron asked. "Is that what he _told_ you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"But nothing, Harry; you know Slytherins are just as good at lying as Gryffindors…if not better. They're not credible people; you and I both know that."

"Still, Ron, Rhianna and Blaise were _only_ trying to help us." Harry was sure that was their only reason for doing so; neither had ever given him any trouble, like Malfoy and his cronies did year upon year. He turned toward Morty and sighed. "I'm not blaming you for Hermione's accident."

"I didn't expect you to," Morty said calmly. "But I'll have to talk about this with Severus later today while you and the other Hawkbane students are at your Necromancy lesson. Are you still on good terms with Darius?"

"Yeah," Harry said calmly. "We're neutral."

"That's good," Morty added, letting out a deep breath. "I'll continue to pray for Hermione's recovery, as well as these other unfortunate students." He walked out of the infirmary and stretched. "If you want to try that curse again in private, Harry, I'd be more than happy to practice it with you."

"Thanks, Morty," Harry said. "At least _someone _is feeling hospitable today." He looked at the auburn professor and asked quietly, "Did you and Snape ever have quarrels when both of you were students?"

"Not really," Morty answered, shrugging his leather-covered shoulders. "Severus viewed me as a pleasant kid brother until I was a Third Year; after all, I was a quite a bit younger than he. Like Severus, Aldebaran didn't argue with me about petty things most of the time, and neither did Darius, Ariel, Natalie, and Lycaon. However, I _have_ argued constantly with another one of my best friends, even to this day."

Harry decided he would take a guess. "Would this friend be Aurelius?"

"No, Aurelius is a kindred spirit; he thinks as I used to." Morty let out a long sigh and said, "It's Lydia that I used to squabble with. Now I don't even visit her family anymore. When Darius and Sargon were still together, I'd visit their manor in Romania—even as teachers, vampires accumulate a lot of wealth over the years. That's why they always seem to be the aristocratic people they are portrayed to be in stereotypes—but I quit visiting with Lydia a long time ago." He sighed. "She named me as a godfather for her son, but I don't go to the Lair as often as I did back when I was still attending Hogwarts as a student." He looked at Harry and said, "Sorry; I didn't mean to present you with a monologue like that."

"It's alright," Harry said, sighing. "I'm having a bit of a problem with Ron and my other friends."

"Unless you want to tell me, I won't force you," Morty said calmly. "Just so you know, I'm not Lisa."

"I noticed," Harry calmly stated. "I felt that I could confide in you because you wouldn't run your mouth to someone else. Darius would giggle and probably end up telling you, Aurelius, and even Snape, if I confessed to him. You—on the other hand—probably were the secret-keeper in your group of friends when you were my age. I trust _you_."

"Well, that means a lot, Harry," Morty said, letting out a long sigh. "My friends would constantly do things I objected to, and never would they heed my warnings. I was usually the stumbling block for their conspiracies, the voice of reason. I didn't harp at them—as far as I know—yet they always seemed to want to do something dangerous…especially Severus. He'd try to get Aurelius and me to beat up your father and his friends. I kept telling him it wouldn't work—and that Aurelius had made friends with them—but he seemed to tune me out." He looked at Harry. "You're lucky that your friends don't do that. They really seem to hang on your every word, most of the time, and seem to place your opinion as an equal to theirs—"

"That is _not_ true!" Harry whispered angrily. "It's always, 'Harry, no!' from Hermione, and 'I don't think this is going to be a good idea, Harry,' from Ron."

"What about Marcus and your other friends?" Morty asked. "I know it's really none of my business, but you've got me curious now."

"I don't think they're close enough for me to confide in," Harry grumbled. "I befriended some of these people just this year. Perhaps I don't know them as well as I should like."

"It will all work out in the long run," Morty said rather quietly. "I'm sure Hermione will be alright in the Infirmary, and that you and Ron will be on the same side again shortly." He let out a small laugh (a rather dry one). "But if that doesn't happen, feel free to talk to Darius, Aurelius, or me."

"Thanks for listening," Harry said, walking off toward Necromancy with the students that had not fallen into a coma from the rotting Minotaur hearts.

"I would like to welcome everyone back to Necromancy!" Darius chirped merrily. "We're not messing around with the Dead today…I've got something better up my sleeve." He batted his mauve eyes at the students and began to clean his glasses on his black silk shirt, "A monster hunt sounds like it would be fun. Don't you agree with me, everyone?" Nobody replied. "Hey…I was talking to you. Aren't you going to answer?"

There was a lot of the word 'yeah' from the Slytherin side of the Hawkbane course, as well as a few haphazard others, but a few were still remaining silent, as if in retaliation. "Okay…" Darius said, looking at his crowd, "We're heading off to the Forbidden Forest to hunt a monster, that far I'm sure you can figure out, and then we're going to cut off its head."

"What kind of a monster is it?" Everyone asked.

"It's a hydra," the teacher said coolly. "Have you covered those in Defense Against the Dark Arts yet with Professor Hemlock or with Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures?"

"No, we Sixth Years haven't," Malfoy snapped at the teacher. "What's a hydra?"

"You'll soon find out, now won't you?" Darius said in a teasing way as he put on a blazing red suede jacket with rhinestones. "It's a little chilly out, as you probably already know. Perhaps you'd like to bundle up before we go out there. I'm not going to lie to you; it's begun to snow."

"You can't be serious," Josh said in a melodramatic voice. "Celia, what are we going to do? These Sixth Years don't know how to take care of hydras."

"Did the Seventh Years learn about hydras yet?" Darius asked, looking toward Celia. "Did Mitzi or Iphigenia teach about them to you?"

"Well, Professor Nezura did," Celia said. "We were halfway through that unit when she left. None of us—save the Second and Fifth Years—have been in Defense Against the Dark Arts since Dr. Hemlock arrived." She sighed. "I can't wait for Monday; I want to see how a true Dark Arts Guru like her would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"We're not going back into hydras with Dr. Hemlock," said Atticus. "Professor Snape finished the unit with us. He was really eager to show the class what a gorgon could do—and kept asking me to demonstrate by turning the class flunk-out into a statue—but I refused to cooperate. I wouldn't even take off my sunglasses for Snape…unless it was to turn _him_ into a rock." He looked as if he was in high spirits. "Hydras are a piece of cake."

"In that case," Darius said. "We'll be splitting up into two groups. Potter, Apathy, and Cantarus will be going off in the woods with _me_ as a guide. Fallowin and all the Sixth Years, save the three I already mentioned, will be coming with the Seventh Years." He turned to Josh and said, "Okay, pretty boy; I'll tell you where the hydra is, since you seem responsible enough."

"Are you kidding, Professor Ahsimal?" Ron shouted. "Josh cares _only_ about himself; he won't be of any help in a monster hunt!"

"Of _course_ I'll be of help," Josh said, swishing his hair Fabio-style. "I'll ward the beast off with my charismatic charms and dashingly-good looks. After all, I'm Josh Goldman!"

"You sound like Gilderoy Lockhart to me," grumbled Rhianna, standing next to Harry.

"You know what, Rhianna?" Harry whispered. "I agree. Josh has the same temperament; all he has to do is write a bunch of books where he plagiarizes the works of others, and he'll be _just_ as successful, and hopefully become a babbling idiot in St. Mungo's."

"That's not something nice to wish upon a fellow sponsored student," Marcus whispered back. "Contrary to what you two think, Josh has to be very intelligent and talented to be in the Hawkbane program. I'm guessing he's not going to make the _same_ mistakes that Lockhart did."

"Damn," Rhianna grumbled. "I don't like Goldman. He's nothing more than an arrogant prick to me. Someone's _got_ to humble him and cut him down a size."

"I agree," Marcus said in an equivalent anger. "He's inconsiderate during my Slayer training. Josh said he was interested in the cause, I think it was because he hated Cassandra Snape, but he disrupts _everything_ I do in room 667. For once, I wish he'd be serious in there; all he does is goof off and be a self-centered git." He looked at Harry. "Did you know we've got our final Quidditch match next week?"

"No, I wasn't aware of that, Marcus," Harry said, rolling his shoulders back to get comfortable before Darius started everyone out on the hunt for the hydra. "Who are we playing against this time?"

"Gryffindor," Rhianna said flatly. "I've been keeping score; Hawkbane may be in the lead at the moment, but leave it to Gryffindor to knock Hawkbane off her high horse. Looking at the probability, we've got a one-in-four chance of winning. Do you have any idea what our weakness is? I can't figure that out."

"It's our Keeper," Harry grumbled. "Ron's not that good."

"I think we need to find someone better," Marcus said. "Harry, even that griffin we were playing Quidditch with during Care of Magical Creatures once was better than Ron. How about I check the rulebook to see if the players have to be human to enter? If that's not the case, then there's a chance a vampire might come on the team, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"Are you ready to begin our interesting little field trip?" Darius asked the three students. "I told Josh Goldman where the hydra's located, and I placed the responsibility of the other students on _him_. If he gets everyone lost, then it's his fault, not mine. I gave him the map." He looked at Marcus and asked, "Is something wrong, Cantarus? You look pale."

"You're still paler than me, Professor Ahsimal," Marcus said shakily, looking at the vampire with a mixed look of fear and loathing. It was clear that Necromancy was his least favorite, only because the teacher was undead. He couldn't stand Darius.

"That, I am," Darius said, laughing. "I'm going to make sure that we get to the monster safely."

"That sounds like a paradox to me," Rhianna whispered to Harry. "Don't you agree?"

"Darius?" Harry said curiously. "How can we approach something like that _safely_?"

"Cantarus probably has his Slayer equipment with him, and besides that, I'm thousands of years old. I know some spells that are so archaic…I'm sure nobody's used them since the fall of Babylon, if not before that." Darius sounded quite confident in his abilities. "Unless something happens to me, and if you haven't been paying attention in Curses & Rootwork, the hydra won't be a big deal." He waved his hand in Marcus's face. "You three are blowing things _way_ out of proportion!"

"Let's go," Rhianna said impatiently. "I'd like to learn an ancient spell, like what you're talking about, Professor Ahsimal."

"Feel free to call me Darius," said the professor; a warm smile had found its way to his snowy-white face. "I count you as a friend." Rhianna seemed pleased with that news.

"What about me?" Marcus asked. "What do you count me as, Professor Ahsimal?"

"You may continue to call me Professor Ahsimal," Darius spat at Marcus. "Don't get me wrong, Cantarus, I like you…it's just that it's _obvious_ that you don't like _me_. I count you as a Slayer-in-training and—therefore—an enemy to my kind." Harry looked behind to see how Marcus was reacting to this taunting from Darius. His friend's ears had gone red, and so had part of his face. Darius blinked in a strongly-feminine way and let out a slightly girlish laugh as he said two rather harsh words in his delicate voice, "_Vampire Slayer_."

"I'd rather be a Slayer than a vampire lover," Marcus snarled. "I'm not going to get bitten by one of you freaks and let you get away with it. If you mess with Marcus Antoninus Cantarus, your Undead Rights will not save you from my wrath."

"Your wrath, eh?" Darius asked, half-amused. "You can hardly swat at a fly. How in the name of Merlin do you expect to stand up against a vampire and come out of the fight alive?" Marcus didn't answer; he merely grumbled as he followed Harry, Darius, and Rhianna deeper into the forest.

Harry knew that Darius was on his side—or so he said—but Marcus had said the same thing. Conflict between a fellow classmate and a powerful Necromancer seemed like it would be a rather one-sided fight if the pressure grew; it was clear that Marcus didn't stand a chance against Darius. As Harry viewed it, it was possible that only very few would even be able to _harm_ the Necromancy professor. He had been living ever since early Biblical times; if he'd been a weakling, Darius would have died along with the Chaldean Kingdom in ancient Sumer, in Larsa. His age, wisdom, and experience set him off from all the others; Darius was no longer submissive to anybody…not Harry, not Dumbledore, not even Voldemort. "Harry," Darius said, breaking Harry's chain of thought. "Could you tell Cantarus to put that anti-vampire kit back in his bookbag until we get back to the castle? He's making me uncomfortable."

'_Here I was, thinking him fearless_,' Harry thought, rolling his eyes. "Marcus, could you put that away? You're scaring Darius with your anti-vampire kit."

"That's the point," Marcus said, waving around a chain of garlic, which he threw at Darius. The vampire began to sneeze violently. "What's the matter, Professor? Are you allergic?"

"Yes," Darius said before sneezing again. "I'm highly allergic. Get rid of that stuff before I write you a referral for provoking my vampiric instincts."

"Any way you look at yourself, you're going to be persecuted," Marcus said darkly at Darius. "You're a guy that likes guys, you're albino, _and_ you're a nasty Bloodsucker. I take it you don't fit in well with the other vampires because even _they_ think you're weird, Professor Ahsimal?"

"I'm looked upon as a leader, as well as a hero in the vampiric community," Darius snarled, folding his arms tightly, like an angry teenage girl. "Sargon and I fought to bring the Undead Rights into existence, and stopped the Slayers' Renaissance for a while." He glared at Marcus. "I thought you'd be glad to be out of Goldman's group."

"I am grateful," Marcus said, "but I am _not_ going to say that I wanted to go hydra hunting with a piece of trash like you!" He pulled out a crucifix and started to wave it in front of Darius. The vampire didn't flinch, but only commented on how pretty it was. The jokes kept up until Marcus almost stabbed Darius with one of the wooden stakes.

That act scared Darius so much that he ran off screaming like a terrified little girl. "Cantarus is trying to kill me! Don't let him do it!" he wailed, running as fast as an Olympic sprinter. Jingling bells could be heard from the teacher's bandolier as he continued to leap, run, and yelp.

"Thanks a lot, Marcus," Harry snapped sarcastically. "Now we've got to chase after him before we _all _get lost." Rhianna followed, but Harry noticed that Marcus wasn't moving. "Why in the name of Merlin did you have to scare him off like that? He was minding his own business until you started to tease him about being a vampire…and then all Hell broke loose. What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"Nothing," Marcus said. "I'm just not going back in the woods with a homosexual vampire. He was making _me_ feel uncomfortable." He sat on a stump. "I bet there isn't even a real hydra out here."

It was the ultimate example of Murphy's Law; as soon as Marcus had said that last sentence, the hydra had appeared in the mist, and was quickly approaching Harry and the two Slytherins. "Damn," Rhianna grumbled. "It's bigger than I'd first thought…I bet it's at _least_ thirty feet tall!"

"Somehow, that's not comforting," Harry hissed. The hydra came even closer, and bared its razor-sharp teeth at the students. "It's coming for us." He looked at Rhianna and Marcus. "By any chance, Marcus, do Slayers get rid of hydras?"

"No!" Marcus yelped in surprise as the thing was only ten feet away. "Rhi, do you read ahead in the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook?"

"Do _you_?" Rhianna retorted. "I hate that class."

"Stop g-g-griping," Marcus stuttered. "It's r-right over th-there…and it's coming to get us!" He groaned. "I'm too young to die…I'm not ready to go down like a true Slayer yet…"

'_He's hopeless,'_ thought Harry as he watched the tough-looking Slytherin run away from the group, screaming like Darius. "Rhianna—" he looked to see Rhianna had run off as well. The sudden realization was overwhelming; Harry was alone in the Forbidden Forest, where the centaurs were sure to find him if the hydra didn't finish him off first. "Where's Darius when you need him most?" he muttered to himself.

As if on cue, Darius appeared out of the bushes, his white hair tangled in with frosted twigs and leaves. "Hello," he said, gasping for air. "How are you?"

"Not so good, Darius," Harry said angrily. "You left us here to fend for ourselves against that hydra. We're _Sixth Years_; we haven't covered hydras yet!"

"Don't you think I know that, Harry?" Darius said, laughing. "I arranged this whole thing; I pretended to be afraid of Cantarus's feeble attempts to be a Slayer, so I ran off. He didn't follow you, so he's off in the woods somewhere. I gave Goldman the map right to the hydra's location and gave him the instruction of cutting its head off." The vampire giggled again and said, "Isn't that funny?"

"I don't see how that last part can be funny," Harry answered honestly. "Why are you laughing so hard? Is Josh really _that_ bad at killing monsters?"

"Actually, that has nothing to do with it," Darius said, still laughing. "When a hydra loses its head, three more grow back in place of the decapitated one. Cutting its head off doesn't kill the beast; it only makes it angrier and even more powerful. The way to _really_ kill a hydra is to stab it in the chest, where its heart is."

"Thanks for the tip," said Harry, not really sure what to think of Darius's motive for getting rid of Marcus and Josh. "Why did you target those two in particular?"

"Goldman and Cantarus are training with Cyanis to become Slayers, and Ebonyste is enhancing their education in the field as well. When we had that day where the concept of the Slayers' Renaissance reigned supreme, I was almost _killed _by those two jerks. For millennia, I've been an individual left to be myself with no qualms from the human world. Since that Slayers' Renaissance thing came along, however, I'm being harassed by young witches and wizards. Even some of the Muggle-born that have watched 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' have been inspired and want to see people like me cease to exist." Darius clenched his fists together. "That's why Sargon died; Ebonyste wanted to be acknowledged as a Slayer."

"That's perverted," Harry said, outraged. "I don't see anything really that different between humans and vampires."

"There's more than meets the eye," Darius replied, "but I think we _can_ live in the same world without waging constant warfare between the two sides. Anyway, about those two boys…I came out here for my revenge."

"I kind of figured that." Harry knew it was true; Darius was not a push-over. "You mean to tell me that you weren't afraid of Marcus's anti-vampire kit?"

"That crap didn't scare me," Darius said, laughing. He pulled his jacket down a little bit to show that he was wearing a silver-and-onyx crucifix necklace. "I've been around for so long that I'm immune to the usual get-rid-of-vampires stuff. Poor Cassandra was susceptible to fainting and getting rather sick from those kits, but it's never bothered me personally."

The tramping of hooves could be heard. A few seconds later, a female centaur stood in front of Harry and Darius. She was tan, tall, and had wild blonde hair. "Didn't we warn you humans to not go stumbling around in the forest?" she snapped angrily. "We _don't_ like your arrogance, and we hate your lousy company." She pulled an arrow out of the quiver she was carrying and aimed her bow at Harry. "You're almost an adult, so you should know better than to come here." She then looked closely at Darius and said, "We have no problem with vampires, though. Welcome back to our realm, Darius."

"Greetings, Arestelle," Darius said merrily. "It's been a long time since we came across each other in these woods."

"Enough small talk, my friend," Arestelle snarled, still not moving the direction of her bow away from Harry's heart. "Is the human with you?"

"Yes," Darius said. "Harry is my student…as you were twenty years ago."

"Darius, you were a wonderful teacher," Arestelle mentioned. "How is Opalous doing?"

"You mean Opalous Songbird, our dear kelpie friend?" Darius asked, getting chatty with the centaur. "I believe there is still nobody who can outrace her, and—as far as I know—she is living the good life in Scotland."

"That's good to know," Arestelle sighed. "She was much swifter than I…tell her I said hello if you get the chance to see her."

"Don't worry, I will," Darius said. "Now about the humans in the woods…"

"Yeah," Arestelle said, folding her arms. "What's the deal with the humans tonight? There are a bunch of them wandering around aimlessly. Does this have anything to do with Necromancy, Darius, or are you just leading them out here to bother us?"

"Neither, actually," answered Darius. "I wanted a few of my bad students to meet the hydra and learn a valuable lesson about provoking vampires." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Two of them tried to Slay me, and they helped butcher a lamia earlier."

"I care nothing for the lamiae," Arestelle said, "_or_ humans, but you vampires are on a rather close intelligence level with us centaurs. We can look upon you as equals since you hold none of the arrogance humans do. However, we view you differently from other vampires; you've almost been around since time began, so you know things that most of us do not. You are our elder."

"Darius," Harry whispered to the professor.

"Yes?" Darius replied playfully.

This irritated Harry a little bit. "The hydra left."

"Oh, that's nice," Darius said with a lot of joy. "Maybe it'll find Goldman or Cantarus for me and tear them to shreds." He turned to Arestelle and said, "You centaurs don't like Slayers either, do you?"

"No, we centaurs hate them just about as much as you vampires do," Arestelle replied. "I actually despise their perverse morals." She put the arrow away and said to Harry, "Unless you're with Darius or Sargon, I don't want to see you in these woods again."

"Sargon's been Slain," Darius said sadly. "I'm alone." He turned to Harry and said, "How about we try to find Rhianna and get out of here before I get you guys into trouble? I'm sure Arestelle and her clan have no conflict with me, but they strongly disapprove of my bringing guests." He waved as Arestelle trotted off into the distance, carrying her quiver of arrows with her.

Harry began walking in the direction Darius pointed out and followed. He had not wanted to meet up with a centaur or the hydra; he'd rather have spent a class period messing around with a dead body. "What's our next lesson going to be on?"

"There's no Afterlight Necromancy tonight," said Darius, "but our next lesson will be on Resurrecting small animals." When Harry looked a bit disappointed, Darius was confused. "What's wrong? I know _you_ can do just fine with a human corpse, but we've got a few neophytes in there that have no interest in this subject. They need to start off Resurrecting mice, rats, rabbits, kittens, and the like." He sighed and said, "If you like, you and I can practice in a separate room; I know that you can do my lesson already, so we'll cover something trickier."

After walking with Darius for a while, Harry noticed that he could see Hogwarts approaching. "Well, we're almost home," he said to Darius. "Thanks for not getting us lost. You didn't even use the map."

"I've been walking back here so much in the past thousand years that I really don't _need_ a map anymore," replied Darius. "I'll go rescue my innocent victims from the hydra. Since you see Hogwarts, and Hagrid's Hut is right over there, how about you try to find Rhianna while I go get everyone else?"

"I can do that," Harry shouted back, and began to look around. Arestelle's words echoed in his head—'_Unless you're with Darius or Sargon, I don't want to see you in these woods again'_—but he tried not to dwell on it. Those words were making him a bit nervous. "Rhianna?" He kept looking around, but found no trace of her. However, he heard footsteps. Peering behind to see what was there, he could only see a shady figure running toward him; a red light from behind made the person a silhouette. "What the—"

"_Harry_!" Rhianna shouted in surprise, still running. "Help me out, _please_! This damn light's been chasing me for half an hour!" She continued to run, and wailed, "I don't know what it is! Is it the disembodied soul of someone? Is it some form of dark magic set upon my demise?"

"I don't know about you, but I really don't think I want to find out anytime soon," Harry said, grabbing his friend by the wrist and rushing her out of the eerie light's path. In two minutes, they were out of the woods…but the thing was still chasing them. To Harry, it simply looked like a red orb of light, billowing with smoke; it kind of reminded him of what had been in Loxias's incense burner, but not quite. It didn't have any smell to it, save the smell of stale air. "Maybe I can distract it," he said, trying to console Rhianna. He ran off in a different direction, but the light only insisted upon following Rhianna.

"IT ISN'T WORKING, GENIUS!" she shouted sarcastically. "GET RID OF IT!"

"How do I do that?" Harry shouted back. "I don't even know what it is!" He watched as Rhianna continued to run away from the ball of light, but it was to no avail. "How did you find it?"

"It was a pretty blue orb when I found it, a dark cerulean like a bluebell flower. The same smoke was emitting from it and everything, and it seemed to be doing nothing. I decided to see if it would do something if I threw a rock at it…and it turned red and then began chasing me around the woods!" Rhianna looked as if she was in deep thought. "I did get to see a wild unicorn, while the light was trying to get me, though, so there was a positive side to my folly."

After Harry and Rhianna made it out of the Forbidden Forest, Rhianna ran off toward the castle. Harry watched closely to see if the light would chase her; it didn't do so. Instead, the glowing orb paused, turned blue, and stood in front of Harry. It still smelled like stale air, but a cold mist surrounded it, making Harry shiver. For a very brief moment, he could hear a faint voice whispering his name from the orb, and almost see the individual. However, the voice was so faint that Harry couldn't tell who it was that was speaking, but whoever-it-was sounded familiar. Then the voice got louder, "Harry," it said, still emanating with the mysterious aura. "Harry, it's me."

Harry blinked, and then realized who was talking to him…the light had shifted into Sirius. "Sirius?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" Sirius asked. He was still transparent, but Harry was glad to see him. "I need to see you up closer…could you come over here and—"

"_DISPERSIUM!_" a female voice shouted. Sirius made a screaming sound and then disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Angry about losing his godfather once again, Harry jerked his head backward to see who it was that had dispersed him. It was Juno Lethe, and she was wearing the robes of a teacher. "What was that for?" Harry snapped. "He was my godfather—"

"That wasn't him," Lethe said shakily.

"How would you know something like—"

"I had a double-Sorcerer's Degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Alchemy," Lethe snapped. "What you just saw was a Spook Light. It looks like a glowing blue orb until you throw something at it. After it's been provoked, it turns red and chases its attacker for half an hour." Lethe's eyes narrowed upon Harry. "Spook Lights are dangerous and should not be messed around with. I remember a time when one of them shifted into Cecil. It almost dragged me directly into the Underworld, which is _exactly_ what those bloody things do when they catch you. They'll kill you instantly if you let your guard down…as you were about to do."

"It was Sirius!" Harry shouted.

"No, that wasn't him," Lethe argued. "It took the form of Sirius to get you to touch it." Her eyes narrowed. "I may have tried to kill you once, but I was working for another at that time. There's no incentive in opposing you now, so you can take my word for it on this one…I specialized in this field for a reason."

"And that was…?" Harry asked. "You taught us some age-appropriate material in class, and you helped me get past Snape a couple of times, but you weren't the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that I'd ever had. That title still belongs to Remus Lupin."

"I got the degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts for a reason," Lethe said ominously. "I did not want to be intimidated by the Dark Arts, so I gave my all into learning how to defend myself from its powers. I may have failed miserably, but at least I can say that I learned my lesson." She grabbed Harry's wrist. "We're heading back to the castle."

"Let go of me," Harry hissed. "I didn't think you've have the guts to touch me after what happened _last_ time."

"Times have changed," Lethe said, sounding like Quirrell for a moment, "and so have I."

Harry looked behind again one more time, wondering if anyone else would be in danger of the Spook Light.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four:

A Trip to Hogsmeade

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been going on for nearly two hours, but nobody wanted to leave, even though class was about to be dismissed.

"Okay, I just covered it with you both in my fifth book—along with my lecture—so can any of you tell me how to distinguish a harpy from a siren?" Dr. Hemlock asked in her raspy voice. It was now December, so a bit of time had passed since the Spook Light incident in the forest. "Well? Who's volunteering to talk and tell me the difference?"

"I guess I will, Professor Hemlock," said Blaise. "Sirens look like birds of prey with the head of a pretty girl; harpies have the head, neck, and upper torso of an old hag, but the wings and body of a dirty eagle."

"Wonderful!" Dr. Hemlock praised. "How did you know?"

"Actually," Blaise said, looking around the room. "I was paying attention, that's all."

Dr. Hemlock laughed at that comment, but Blaise got a few dirty looks from his classmates. Harry found it funny because it had been a rather witty comment, and preferred it over Hermione's 'I-looked-ahead-in-the-textbook' speech. "That was great," he whispered to Blaise.

"It was just the truth," Blaise replied, not even looking up. "Professor Hemlock's a great teacher, isn't she?"

Harry didn't have a chance to answer. Dr. Hemlock cut him off by shouting, "Okay! Class is dismissed for today, but don't forget that your essays on how to resist the songs of a siren are due on Monday, when our next class will be." She smirked and said, "I hope that you'll have a great time in Hogsmeade, everyone; I'm not able to go along this time, but I will accompany you there sooner-or-later. Professors Skylarke, Snape, and Ahsimal will be taking you to Hogsmeade this time. They will be leaving in about an hour, and everyone will return on Sunday."

"But it's a Friday, Professor Hemlock!" yelped Ron. "Why are we pulling two overnighters in Hogsmeade? Snape will try to leave us there and get us Gryffindors in trouble!"

"That's not the reason behind the madness, Weasley. A couple of taverns, known as The Black Annis and The Wit's End, have reopened in the downtown area, and some of you students have _relatives_ that live in Hogsmeade that would love to see you for more than one day," Dr. Hemlock explained. "Besides, the Shrieking Shack looks like it would be a good place to spend the night for anyone that's a daredevil like me." She chortled a couple of times and then let out a wheezing cough into a handkerchief. "Alright, everyone…get out of here before you catch my germs. You better get your butts out the door quickly, unless you _want_ me to aim my cold bug at you."

Downstairs, the three teachers were ready to take the students to Hogsmeade. On Snape's shoulder was a crow. Harry knew it was really Aurelius, but only a few other people knew that the runaway was even _in_ Hogwarts.

"Are we ready to leave yet?" Darius asked anxiously. "I'm taking my group to try out one of the renovated pubs this evening, and I'll be paying for dinner."

"Who's he taking?" Neville asked Harry.

"Anyone that wants to join me for dinner will be more than welcome to accompany me over there," Darius said merrily. "I'll even pay for rooms for the Hawkbane-sponsored students." He then added something else, "But I will not offer that to Joshua Goldman or Marcus Cantarus."

"That's not fair," Marcus grumbled. "Harry, I think Ahsimal's out to get me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Marcus…he thinks _you're_ out to get _him_."

"I am," Marcus said, "but not _just_ him. I think he's targeted Josh and me for extermination."

"I think he could easily do that, too," Harry said. "Marcus, how's your broken arm doing?"

"It's healing on its own, but it's not that much fun knowing Madame Pomfrey's out for the rest of the semester." Marcus muttered under his breath, "Damn hydra bit my arm…"

"Well, you _did_ rub garlic in Darius's face," Harry said. "It was only an act of retribution—"

"Maybe my mum will sue the school for my injury, and maybe Ahsimal will be sacked for what he got that monster to do to Josh and me," Marcus said, hopping off merrily. "Professor Snape, I want to be in your group."

"Why?" Snape asked dryly. "Cantarus, it's not like you to want to follow the Head of your House on a Hogsmeade trip." He eyed the boy closely. "You usually tag along with Argus."

"If I've got to choose between you, Skylarke, and Ahsimal…I'd choose you over either of them any day of the week," Marcus admitted. "Skylarke gives me the shivers, and Ahsimal's a heartless bloodsucker."

"Watch your mouth, Cantarus," Snape said sharply. "Even if you don't like them, I do. I respect Professor Ahsimal and find him to be a rather _wise_ individual that a lot can be learned from. He was the first professor I ever had that offered to teach me a Dark Art. As for Professor Skylarke, I can almost guarantee that he doesn't like you, either."

"He has the gorgonix inside him," Marcus said loudly. "All the evidence is pointing directly at him…he's _got_ to be the Carrier of that monster. Professor Ebonyste found a severed hand in Skylarke's classroom that turned out to be from the body of Remus Lupin, and how can you explain those alleged blackouts he's been reporting? Sometimes he can't remember what he did only about an hour earlier, so perhaps it's the gorgonix—"

"Speculations like that one will make you more enemies than you want, Cantarus," Snape hissed poisonously. "Get in line. I will not be paying for your meals and lodgings in Hogsmeade. You can all go into the Shrieking Shack and get yourselves killed for all I care."

Marcus took a place between Goyle and Malfoy, and looked at Harry, silently begging him to come into Snape's group.

Harry refused to do what Marcus pleaded him to do; having to deal with Severus Snape in class was already more than he wanted to handle. He looked at the groups to see where everyone was going. The majority of students were crowding around Snape, and almost all of the Hawkbane students that didn't find the Slayer's Doctrine appealing anymore were hanging on to Darius's cape. Rhianna walked into Morty's group, and five seconds after she did that, Blaise followed her, not saying anything outwardly but obviously eager about something.

"I think I'll take the students I'm holding myself responsible for over to The Wit's End so we can check in early. That way my group will be able to stay out on the streets as late as they like without having to worry about finding a room when they're tired and ready to get some rest." Morty looked at the students. "Is anyone interested?"

Harry walked over toward Morty. "I'm interested."

"I guess I'm interested too," Ron said, standing next to Harry. Celia walked over as well, wheeling Atticus into the group.

Neville walked up to Morty and nervously admitted that he wasn't afraid of him. Morty, however, looked a bit confused. "Why would you be afraid of me? I'm not going to harm you or anyone else. It's not in my nature to terrorize others unless it is justified, which is hardly ever."

"Hold on!" shouted a familiar voice, gasping for air. "I fell down the stairs trying to catch up with you...sorry I'm late."

"That's not a problem, Stanzi," said Darius, laughing. "Everyone, this is Constanza Quirrell. We had a bad brush-in with an imposter not too long ago, but this lady isn't a fake. She'd prefer to be referred to as Professor Talus, and will be in charge of our Dueling Club."

"What is she going to teach?" asked Harry. He was glad Stanzi was going to be up at Hogwarts again, but he wanted to know if she would be teaching Alchemy like Parenein and Loxias had done. "What is Professor Talus going to teach us?"

"Dueling techniques," Stanzi said in a spirited voice. "I don't technically teach a legit class like these three gentlemen I'm standing next to at this very moment, but my function in the faculty now is to help any of you that are interested in Dueling." She had a nasty tear on her robe and dress, and a purplish bruise was beginning to appear. Harry took a look at the necklace around her neck; it looked like a bunch of amulets tied together with a piece of fishing lure. "I'll be traveling with your group, Morty. I hope you don't mind."

"Now, Constanza, why in the name of Merlin would I mind if you came along?" Morty asked. "First Neville tells me that he's not afraid of me, and now you tell me that you think I wouldn't want you to come to the Wit's End? What's wrong with everyone today? Why do you portray me to be a monster?"

"Well," Dennis Creevey said, "you're possessed by the gorgonix. Of _course_ you're a monster!"

"No," Morty said flatly. "I am not possessed, and I am not a monster. Believe me; I'd know if I was. Who told you that I was, Dennis?"

"Marcus Cantarus," Dennis replied.

"Cantarus is a fool at times, as is everyone else," Morty responded to that comment. He looked at Marcus. "You're only making the hole deeper, you know." Marcus didn't seem to be intimidated by those words, so Morty made sure to quit trying to break it through to him that he was treading on thin ice with some of his teachers. "Harry, I'm glad to see you decided that my group looked interesting enough to consider."

"It was a small group, and I didn't want to go all the way to Hogsmeade with Snape looming over me," explained Harry. "That makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Morty said, "but I wish Severus wouldn't be so hard on you. It's not your fault that your father was James Potter, and it's not your fault that you're who you are." He shivered. "I had only one encounter with Voldemort in my life, and I'm lucky to have come out of that fight alive."

"You were able to defend yourself?" asked Harry.

Morty said nothing, but pulled his hair a bit out of his face. There was a horrid slash mark right by his ear that still had an incarnadine color to it. Surprisingly, it looked quite a bit like the one on Harry's forehead. He then let go of the grip on his hair and shook his head, covering up the mark once more. His eyes seemed to tell the whole story.

"Later that same month, the Death Eaters made sure to annihilate my family." Morty let out a yawn, and then said, "Well, enough of that; I'll tell you the rest some other time, if you like. Let's enjoy ourselves in Hogsmeade."

"What are your plans for when we get down there?"

"Since you asked, Harry, I think I'll let you know that I'm going to get most of my Christmas shopping out of the way," Morty admitted. "Darius, Severus, and I still need to head over to the Ministry of Magic at some point, though. Aurelius must be brought to justice…and maybe we can weasel some money out of his twin in the process."

"I noticed that our friend was traveling on Snape's shoulder to Hogsmeade," Harry said, laughing. "I guess he wanted a change of scenery."

Morty didn't seem too thrilled with the news that Aurelius was going to be in Hogsmeade. "You don't know that man to the extent that Severus and I do. Each time Aurelius and I went to Hogsmeade when we were students, he always had to pull one prank or another on someone. Guessing from his unchanging nature and stubbornness, I believe that he will try to do something that might get him into trouble and send the Aurors over to the castle. That would be bad news for my friends and me; according to the Ministry, we are breaking the law by giving shelter to Aurelius Fallowin."

"Why won't his older brother help?" Harry asked. "What about Orpheus Fallowin, the guy that married Trelawney?"

"Orpheus packed his bags for Transylvania and never came back," Morty said, rolling his eyes. "He disowned the family and changed his last name to Garderman. Orpheus always thought too highly of himself, and thought he was better than everyone else."

"I can vouch for that," Stanzi said, interrupting. "When I was a First Year, he was a Seventh Year. When Madame Hooch was teaching us how to ride a broomstick—I already knew how to do that, but that's not the point—Orpheus jinxed mine and I ended up dangling from the mouth of one of those gargoyles outside the Necromancy Tower for nearly half an hour before Professor McGonagall decided to waste her time in getting me back on my feet." She bit her lip and got a comically-angry look on her face. It was apparent she was upset, but Harry found it very hard to take her seriously with that funny expression. "I then went into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and had a nice little chat with her." When Ron looked at her in a funny way, Stanzi pursed her lips before saying, "What is it? Everyone has a purpose; you should know that!"

The trip to Hogsmeade really wasn't that bad, and once inside the city, Harry decided that he'd follow Morty over to The Wit's End and check in to his room. The tavern was very charming, and had a nice courtyard in the back. A chain of garlic was on the front door, so Harry was guessing that Darius was going over to the other tavern with his students. Also on the front door was a sign that read: '_Hogwarts students may lodge in the tavern for free during the course of the school year_.' "Well, that's good to know," Stanzi said. "I wonder if that same offer applies to teachers."

"It doesn't," Morty said. "I already checked earlier this week when Darius and I went to purchase a wand for a friend. That deal is for students _only_."

"Very well," Stanzi said. "I'll be right back; don't go in without me." She rushed off into a clothing store. Ten minutes later, she came out dressed like a student, and had put on quite a bit of make-up. Harry couldn't help but snigger; he could already tell that Stanzi was going to get away with not paying for a room. "Okay; I'm ready to go in."

"I can tell," Morty said, letting out a heavy sigh. "You're lucky you can still look so young. I may be in my thirties, but my days of looking like a teenager are _long gone_."

"I'm thirty," Stanzi said flatly. "Just don't tell the person in charge that I'm really that old." She looked at Harry and asked, "You'll play along with this little charade, won't you?"

"Sure thing," Harry said, "Stanzi."

Stanzi laughed and then opened the door to the Wit's End. The lobby was designed to look like part of an Italian villa. Snow was falling outside lightly, but the courtyard was not affected. Harry then realized why; there was a glass dome over the garden. So many flowers and pretty plants were in there…it just didn't look natural together. The students, Stanzi, and Morty walked in, getting a good look at the room. Off to the right was the café and a room for Dueling was at the left. "I think I know someone that might want to make reservations for a field trip here for the Dueling Club," Morty hinted. Stanzi nodded and continued to keep up her act.

A tall, burly man with a long mustache and curly brown hair appeared, dressed in faded jeans and a tie-dye tee shirt. '_I wonder if he knows Ebonyste_,' thought Harry. "Hello," said the man in a rather deep voice, "and welcome to The Wit's End. We're glad to see all of you decided to lodge here over the weekend." He looked at Morty and said, "Hello, Professor Skylarke. How are you doing this fine evening?"

"I'm doing quite well, Stewart," Skylarke said. "This is the group I was asking about the other day."

Stewart looked closely at the students and pointed at Stanzi. "What year is that pretty little lady in at the moment?"

"I'm a Seventh Year," Stanzi fibbed, trying to make her voice sound slightly prissy. Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. "How are the rooms laid out?"

"Well, you'll have more privacy than you do up at school," Stewart answered. "You'll only have to share with as many people as you want to. If all of you girls and boys want to sleep in one room, that's fine by me. But you can all ask for single rooms, if that's your preference."

"I think I'll take a single room," Stanzi said, sniggering as she got the key to her room from Stewart. "Just out of curiosity, how old do you think I am?"

"Until you mentioned that you were seventeen, Miss, I thought you might be fifteen," Stewart said, looking baffled. Stanzi beamed and took her suitcase with her up the stairs. It was then that Harry realized that Stewart was half-blind and couldn't see very well. "She's a cutie," Stewart whispered to Morty. "What's her name?"

"Er…" Morty muttered, "Eris? I believe her name is Eris." Harry knew that Eris was Stanzi's middle name, so that would be a rather easy way to remember her 'student' name.

"That's a pretty name," Stewart said, letting out a heavy sigh. "I swear…she looks like she's a lot of fun to be around."

"She was quite a help during our voodoo unit," Morty lied. "She actually went so far as to make a juujuu doll as well." After Stewart walked off to get the keys for everyone, Morty let out a sigh of exasperation. "Honestly, she has the money to buy an outfit and do her Christmas shopping, but she's too cheap to pay for a room."

"Maybe she just wanted to play a prank on someone," Ron said. "She could have almost fooled me into thinking she was Celia's age."

"I don't think so," Celia argued. "She looks like a very girlish college student, in my own opinion." After that acknowledgement, she let out a heavy sigh. "That little outfit she bought was pretty cute. I think I'll go shop with Professor Talus after I unpack my bags."

"Did you get a single room?" asked Harry. This was the first time in a long while that he had even considered speaking to Celia.

"No," Celia said. "I decided to share a room with Isis."

"Isis Acheron went with this group?" Ron asked suddenly.

"No, but she knows how to get to the Wit's End," Celia explained. "We'd talked about sharing a room for quite a while before I ventured off with Professor Skylarke."

"Hello!" Isis cheered, bursting through the door with her duffle bag. "Celia, did you register me for the double room?"

"Of course I did, Isis," Celia said, laughing. "Why wouldn't I?"

"To be mean, I guess," Isis guessed half-heartedly. "Hi, Harry! Hello, Ron!"

"Hey, Isis," Ron said nervously. "How are you?"

"I'm doing quite well; how about you?" Isis asked, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging him off to the courtyard. "I looked at a brochure for this place; the courtyard has an entrance to the tavern's pub…it's supposed to be the second-best in all of Hogsmeade!"

Instead of trying out the pub immediately, Harry ventured upstairs to see his lodging for the weekend; room #3.8, third floor. He had the old-fashioned key in his hand as he walked down the hall. The portraits seemed to spring to life (as most pictures in the Wizarding World tend to do), but seemed slightly different. Instead of showing a person stuck in one place, the pictures showed the scenery moving as well. One was of Phorcys Lancerie playing a keyboard, glaring evilly at the people looking at him; he was surrounded by constantly-moving flames. Another was of Juno Lethe, forever falling into a bottomless pit. '_How is this possible?_' thought Harry as he looked at a third poster, this time of little Giselle Acheron flying with angel wings over a cemetery. He looked to see that an amulet was placed on the front of each door. After a long search, and with the celebrity images leering at him, he found room #3.8. He gingerly turned the doorknob after unlocking the room, and noticed that his room had a balcony window.

"Nice, isn't it?" asked Neville, coming up from behind. "I like this place; it seems so nice."

"What's the deal with the celebrity portraits in the hall?" Harry asked. "They didn't look very pleasant…almost ominous."

"Those are just concert posters from this year's ManiFest," explained Neville. "I actually bought the one they had of Giselle Acheron, since I know what a nice little girl she is."

"Lancerie looks like he wants to tear the viewer to shreds," Harry pointed out.

"I'm not disagreeing with that statement," the Lancerie poster shouted back.

"I don't really see the point of putting these on the door, either," Harry grumbled, looking at the amulet. It reminded him of the little things floating in the air when Loxias had been teaching Alchemy in Turret Six. "What is their purpose?"

"Those are amulets," Neville explained. "What they do is ward evil spirits away from the people in the room. The owner of the tavern put them there so that his clients won't become possessed by demons and the like." He pulled out the Cycle of Possession diagram from How to Prepare for What's Surely Coming and pointed at the picture to Harry. "I don't want this to happen to any one of us, not even Malfoy."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked Neville, elbowing his friend. "It would serve Malfoy right."

"No, it wouldn't," Neville argued. "He's just teasing to get a rise out of you, to be annoying. If he was actually planning to kill someone, this would only make matters worse. Only very powerful people are able to live parasitically off of living humans. That explains how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was able to live on Professor Quirrell five years ago."

"Speaking of the devil," Harry began, looking to see that Stanzi was approaching from behind, trying to ward off Celia. "There's the wife right over there." He turned around and waved at the teacher. "Oy, Stanzi!"

"Yes?" Stanzi asked, confused. She walked over toward Harry and Neville and asked, "Is something wrong?" When she realized both boys were completely fine, she sighed. "Okay, maybe not, but is there any particular reason why you called me over here, Harry?"

"What's your opinion of putting amulets on the doors?" asked Harry.

"I think it's just a waste of perfectly good silver," Stanzi admitted. "The damn things hardly ever work right, and don't they look sloppy? Whoever made these amulets was probably a very second-rate Exorcist or some inexperienced college kid." She sighed. "You students know that Professor Lethe can make better ones than these—"

"Her job is to teach Alchemy, not Defense Against the Dark Arts," Morty argued with Stanzi. "Juno should leave Iphigenia alone about her job and not try to argue with a Dark Arts Guru every waking moment. That arrogance of hers is going to lead her into trouble at some point."

"Are you threatening her?" Stanzi asked, sounding serious for once. She stood on her tiptoes, but she still wasn't as tall as Morty. "I could report that to the Headmaster, if I wanted to. I don't care that you've been here about a semester more than me; you're _still_ a neophyte teacher."

Morty looked as if someone had insulted him. Instead of backing off peacefully, like he usually did, he grabbed Stanzi by the shoulders. "If it's my word against yours, I'm afraid that you're going to lose tragically, my dear. I have already proven myself to be honest in front of the Headmaster, and you've only been alive again for about a month now." He sneered at her in a Snape-like way. "You don't want to pick a fight with me, Stanzi."

Stanzi backed off. "Okay…maybe I don't want to do that after all…" she walked out of the hall, staring at Morty the whole way. "It's not right to intimidate fellow neophytes, Mortimer!"

"I may be a neophyte to the Hogwarts faculty," Morty said, "but, as you already know, teaching is nothing new to me." After Stanzi disappeared out of sight, he let out a long, heavy sigh. "Sometimes I wish she would simply shut up and leave me alone." He turned to Harry and said, "It's been quite a while since I've been in Hogsmeade. I'll check in with you and the others tomorrow. A very important meeting that I must go to is being held downtown, so do you mind checking to see that everyone gets back here safely if I don't arrive at the tavern before midnight?"

"Sure," Harry said, "that won't be a problem." With that, he and Morty went their separate ways, only to meet again later. He took the stairs all the way down to the first floor and walked out of the front doors of the Wit's End.

"Where are you heading off to so quickly?" a voice asked. Harry turned around to see a man in a wheelchair that he thought looked familiar. The fellow was in his late forties, and had a wild mane of raven-black hair with silvery strands mixed in. He looked quite handsome for a guy his age, but something seemed to be off in his eyes. "That way leads downtown," he said. "You probably want to head uptown, where the decent shops and the Shrieking Shack are located."

"No, I want to see St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery," Harry corrected the man. "Who are you?"

"I am Aldebaran Black," the man replied in a rather dismal tone. "I'm heading downtown myself. You see, I've got to go to this very important meeting; a few of my former students are going to be there, as well as the majority of a committee I'm part of. The woman that owns the grounds of St. Clytemnestra's is in the organization, so perhaps I can arrange for you to go in there, Mr. Potter." He winked. "I knew your parents quite well; not only did I teach them Manipulations in their last two years at Hogwarts, but my middle brother was your father's best friend. Of course you knew that."

"Sirius, yes," Harry said. "Now, how did you know I was Harry Potter?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Aldebaran replied. "So…let me guess…Hogsmeade weekend?" When Harry nodded, Aldebaran seemed quite interested. "Are you going to be getting Christmas gifts for friends this year?" Once again, Harry nodded, wondering where all of this was going. "Is there any chance you'll be seeing Sirius?"

Harry scowled at Aldebaran. "Sirius died this summer," he said flatly. "As his older brother, I'd have assumed that you would have known about it." Looking even closer at Aldebaran, Harry could see misty tears beginning to build up. "Hey, are you going to be okay?"

"Sure," Aldebaran said bitterly. "Nobody tells me anything; I never get visitors anymore."

"I'll visit," Harry offered. "I'm sure Sirius would have wanted me to make friends with you, anyway. Besides, I've heard nothing but good things about you from a few of my adult friends." Aldebaran's eye twitched for a moment, and then he looked at Harry, as if to ask who these people were that had spoken well of him. "You remember Mortimer Skylarke, Aurelius Fallowin, and Darius Ahsimal, right?"

"Of course I remember Darius," Aldebaran said, rolling his eyes. "I was part of the Undead Rights Movement; even though I'm nothing more than your typical man, I had a couple of undead friends that I felt needed to be treated fairly. I fought alongside Darius Ahsimal and Sargon von Dorian in London, May 6, 1980. It was us against the Ministry of Magic."

"What about Mortimer Skylarke and Aurelius Fallowin?"

"There is no way I'd forget either of them, either," Aldebaran said, looking down at his left hand. On his middle finger was that Nemesarist ring that Harry had gotten quite familiarized with. "Neither was the best Manipulations student I ever had—that title went to Constanza Talus, this precious little First Year girl that had such a sweet disposition—but both were exceptionally bright, especially Morty. I made friends with the both of them outside of class. In fact, the last person to visit me before St. Mungo's turned me loose into the mainstream Wizarding World again was Morty." He let out a long, airy sigh. "Honestly, he was raised to be a gentleman and really knows how to treat his friends properly. I even got a Christmas card every year…how considerate."

"You're not exactly like Sirius, but you're pretty similar," Harry told Aldebaran.

"It's because I'm not him," Aldebaran said sadly. "He was his own person and was not afraid to live the life he always wanted. I, on the other hand, am a fatalist; I believe that every large or small thing that has ever happened to me was predestined. It was fated that I'd be the last of the family, yet have none of the grandeur. It was fated that I would see my best friend murdered before my own eyes, poor Veronica Acheron. It was fated that my youngest brother would die a premature death with the Death Eaters, and it was preordained that Sirius would die before me." He looked at Harry. "Perhaps you can feel my pain, at least a little. You carry a fated life too."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, and then remembered Trelawney's first prediction that Dumbledore had mentioned after Sirius's tragic death. Either Voldemort would triumph and he would die, or he would conquer Voldemort and kill the biggest threat the Wizarding World had at the present time…the most powerful Dark wizard ever documented.

"Before you were even born, people knew what it was you were going to accomplish," Aldebaran said, beginning to perk up a little. "It was either you or Neville Longbottom," he added, "and it's now become apparent that you're the one to stop V-Voldemort, not the one that had been predicted to overcome his power back when I was teaching at Hogwarts."

"Who was that?" Harry asked, realizing that he had never met Aldebaran in person, but had witnessed a few memories of others that had given this man a major role. He knew the Aldebaran Black of the past quite well, but knew hardly anything about the one of the present day.

"The man that made me the way I am," Aldebaran replied, "Tybalt Tellulan." Harry cringed at that name; crazy old Tellulan was the man that had mauled people to death with his bare hands and had at one time been possessed by the gorgonix. "You've heard of Tybalt?" Aldebaran sounded surprised. "The memory of him is easy to find in people my age, but he died a few years before you were even born. Is he in your History of Magic textbook or something?"

"No," Harry said. "Most of my younger professors had him for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and some of them have been around so long that they worked alongside him, so I've had a lot of chances to listen to stories. Besides, the ghost of Sebastian Argentum is up there, and he loves to show people what his death looked like." Aldebaran looked like he was going to vomit. "I'm agreeing with you; it was very unpleasant."

"You don't know the half of it," Aldebaran said, sighing. "You couldn't smell him. But—about his ghost—how is Sebastian doing? Would you know?"

"As far as I know, he's doing quite well," admitted Harry.

"Who are the teachers you've got that have memories of him?"

"Snape, Skylarke, Ahsimal, McGonagall, Hagrid, Argentum," Harry said, "I can go on. I think very few of them didn't know who he was."

"I think anyone who is at least five years older than you would know who Tybalt Tellulan was," Aldebaran said. "He was about as famous as you; until Sybil Trelawney made that other prediction, it was long thought that Tybalt was that heroic soul that would stop the Death Eaters and their master." He sounded quite bitter at this point. "People would throw parades for him, not knowing that they were praising a man who was nothing more than serial killer." He stretched out his left hand. "Did you know that he had nails like hawk talons? When he attacked someone, he never used a knife; instead, he'd use his own hands to tear even the sturdiest individual to ribbons of flesh. He almost got to me, but Veronica came in the tower to rescue me…it still grieves me to say that she lost her life because of me." He then looked at Harry in a confused way. "Did you say that Snape and Skylarke teach up at Hogwarts? What do they teach?"

"Curses & Rootwork and Potions," Harry answered. "Don't you have a meeting you need to get to downtown?"

Aldebaran looked quite surprised. "I'd completely forgotten! It was so great to have someone to talk to, since I haven't had a decent conversation in the longest time, that I'd forgotten that I've got to meet my friends downtown for Nem—" he shut up and snapped his fingers once. Something that sounded like a malfunctioning computer came from the area he had formerly been in as he disapparated to the downtown district.

"Let me guess," Harry said to himself, "he said too much and didn't want to give away that he was going to Nemesarium." He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but have a smile curl up on his lips. Perhaps, with persuasion, he could convince Aldebaran to return to Hogwarts. He'd be a much better professor than Jules Pyrites, Varinia Loxias, or Wolfgang Leir. After all, Aldebaran had—at one time—been Teacher of the Year.

A few hours later, Harry had completed his Christmas shopping for Ron, Hermione, Mad-Eye Moody, and all his other friends in the downtown area instead of uptown where the usual shops were. This part of Hogsmeade was much more mysterious and offered quite a variety of small places to visit. He picked up a book on the history of Clairvoyancy for Hermione, a new cage to keep Pig in for Ron, a new Sneakoscope for Mad-Eye, Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock's 'How to Care for Your Griffin' for Hagrid…and several other things for people he felt needed a Christmas present from him. He even got something for Aldebaran, a viewing crystal similar to the one Cassandra had picked up in Mitzi's store around the time school had started. It was rather depressing to shop alone, but he was okay with that. There was somewhere else he wanted to go besides the cemetery, and that was the Lair. Checking his watch, he realized it was about a quarter after midnight.

The walk from Black Market Minerals to the Lair was not that long; only five minutes at the most. What Harry wanted was to see how Lydia and her family were doing. In his pocket was a letter he had addressed to Cassandra. He used Rhianna's secret way to get in, and walked past the macabre garden, not even looking at the wrought iron sculptures that had enticed several in the past. Quietly approaching the stairs, he made sure as to not look back. The knocker on the door was available for use, so Harry made sure to give it a very loud knock.

About a minute later, the door creaked open, and there was Teiresias, dressed in faded jeans and a Slytherin sweatshirt that was much too big on him. "Hello," Harry said. "How are you?"

"I guess I'm doing alright," Teiresias said, "but what are you doing here? Does my mum have to give you another permit to visit the cemetery or something?"

"No, not this time," Harry said, "I was wondering if I could come in."

"Sure," answered Teiresias, opening up the door. "Mum's almost done with her meeting, so I don't see a problem with letting you in the house. It's a bit messy, though. Mopsy's been avoiding the chores lately." The little boy rolled his eyes. "You know you're in a rut when you've got to clean up after your own house elves. Honestly, Tipsy's always been bad, but never _Mopsy_." He walked around cautiously, leading Harry into the next room. "Well, is there anyone you wanted to speak to in particular? If so, I bet it's my mum."

"No, not really," Harry said. "What made you think I didn't want to see what you were up to, Teiresias?" '_He is such a funny kid,_' he thought, '_if I'd befriended someone like this when I was that age, I think I'd be a different person…no…I know I would. Teiresias is nice, as far as I know, but I still don't know what to make of him and the rest of the family. He's not like Cassandra exactly, but I can't really clearly place him with another person. All I know is that he reminds me of someone_.' He looked at the boy again, and sighed. "You're not tired?"

"Should I be?" Teiresias retorted. "I'm almost always up at this hour; aren't _you_?" With those words, Cassandra's cat—Pandora—began to weave in-and-out of Teiresias's skinny legs. "Stupid cat," he grumbled. "One of these days, I'll fall down the stairs, and it'll be her fault for tripping me." Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at Teiresias as the boy began to clean his glasses angrily. "If Pandora didn't just happen to be Cassandra's housecat, then we would have gotten rid of her ages ago." He leered at the foolish ball of fluff that had made the mistake of tripping him. "I've got my eye on you, Pandora. Don't do anything stupid, or you'll regret it."

Harry watched as the cat left the room to go outside and prey upon unsuspecting mice and birds. Obviously, Pandora did not care if Teiresias was watching her vigilantly; she just wanted to catch presents to give to the family as love offerings. "Is there any reason why you decided to come by?" Teiresias asked, sounding a bit more curious. "We hardly ever get visitors anymore; Dad usually scares Mum's friends away, I don't really fit in with the other kids in the village that are my age, and Cassandra's friends don't visit unless she's here. Therefore, Blaise and Rhianna quit coming after Cassandra got arrested…except once." Teiresias had a rather wicked glint in his eye after that comment. "Mum is the hostess for Nemesarium tonight, but I'm hosting something else in my sister's room. Care to join us, Harry?"

"What are you doing up there?" Harry asked, a bit confused about what Teiresias was saying. '_I don't like the way he's looking at me_,' he thought, '_is that child evil?_' Although Harry knew that Teiresias von Dorian-Snape was only nine-or-ten years old, that little boy looked so much older for just a few seconds. The expression on his face made him look almost Harry's age, or at least in his dark silver eyes…or perhaps in the way the dim lights were reflecting off of his glasses. "Are you hosting something that has to do with the Dark Arts?"

"I guess you could say that," Teiresias said, walking up the wrought-iron staircase, making sure that his bare feet touched the plushy-red carpet in the center of each step. Stained glass windows of a rose garden passed by in the small turret leading to another part of the second floor, and there were several other details in the Lair that Harry had not picked up on the first time he had entered. Teiresias walked boldly into Cassandra's room, the Phorcys Lancerie posters silently glared at Harry as he passed through to follow his scrawny host. "By the way, my birthday is today." It was Friday, December 13.

"Well, happy birthday," Harry said, a bit confused. "You're eleven now, right?"

"No," Teiresias said. "I'm ten now." He then turned on a light in his sister's domain and said, "Okay, guys; Harry decided to show up after all."

"You told him we were up here?" Blaise asked, appearing out of the shadows. Rhianna soon appeared out of seemingly nowhere as well. "Teiresias…this is serious."

"What are you two doing here?" Harry asked, looking at the two Slytherin Sixth Years.

"We're here to discuss a break-out plan with Teiresias," Rhianna said, looking at Blaise's now-red face. "Isn't that right, Blaise?"

"Er…" Blaise said, looking at Rhianna. "Yeah, that's about right. We want to free Cassandra from Azkaban."

"That's what was going on up here?" Harry asked Teiresias, eyeing the boy a bit curiously. "I thought you said that this had something to do with Dark Magic."

"I said 'I guess you could say that,'" Teiresias replied comically. "Since Cassandra's two best friends are both Slytherins, I guess you could say that they'd know more about the Dark Arts than you—"

"That's not necessarily true," Blaise blurted. "Harry's a better Necromancer than I am, and I'm even taking the Afterlight courses with Darius."

"It's one thing to know a lot about something dangerous to meddle with," Rhianna said, "but another thing to know how to survive it, let alone _use_ it." She looked at Teiresias and ruffled his messy black hair. "You're a cutie."

"No, I'm not," Teiresias snarled back, trying to straighten his hair back up as he stomped out of the room. "I'm going to get us some tea, since neither Mopsy, Tipsy, _nor_ Scrappy will do it."

"He's cute for someone his age," Rhianna said after Teiresias was out of earshot. "I bet he'll grow up to be quite attractive."

"You want to know what I think?" Harry said, "I think he'll grow up to look like Snape."

Blaise sniggered a bit at that comment. "That poor kid…"


	26. Chapter 25

_A/N: All songs found within this story were all completely written by me. Professor Skylarke_

**Chapter 25**

The Yule Ball

The plan had been set into motion between Harry, Rhianna, Teiresias, and Blaise; Cassandra Snape would be liberated from her unjust punishment before the school year was over. The SOS (Save-Our-Snape) Campaign had been put into effect, and it was surprising to see how many people actually wanted to free the girl. During her six years as a full-time student, she had never been as popular as at that moment. Instead of being the freaky girl nobody wanted to talk about, she had become a pseudo-martyr, a contemporary reflection of Antigone. Thanks to the kind assistance of Lisa Turpin's gossip network, Harry gained the support of nearly three quarters of the school by the end of the Hogsmeade Weekend.

For Teiresias's birthday, Harry had stayed with Blaise and Rhianna to keep him company. Rhianna had even made a small cake for the boy, and kept (much to Teiresias's dislike) ruffling his hair. Harry made yet another expedition to a store, and had returned to the Lair with a make-shift gift for Teiresias…a tiny, long-haired black kitten with golden eyes. After finding out that his new furry friend was a male, Teiresias had decided to call his cat Faust, after the famous philosopher that had sold his soul for eternal youth in the opera that bore that name. "He looks a bit mischievous, doesn't he?" Teiresias asked, smiling. "Thanks, Harry; I think this is going to be my favorite gift."

That had been a week ago. The essay on how to survive the song of a siren had been turned in on Monday for Dr. Hemlock, Snape had a lesson—supervised by McGonagall—about safety precautions on Tuesday, and the students had also to endure the end-of-semester exams for each and every class. In Harry's opinion, the exams for the Hawkbane courses were by far the most challenging. "We are all glad to see that each and every one of you has completed your exams," Flitwick exclaimed. "Everyone should enjoy the festivities, but I insist upon everyone paying a nice visit on a favorite teacher. After all, we're almost out for the Christmas holidays. Isn't that great?" Flitwick then laughed, "and you're not going to believe this…one of your teachers wants to throw all of you a party in his classroom."

"Professor Flitwick!" exclaimed Malfoy. "Surely you're joking with us!"

"Oh, I do not jest," Flitwick said, laughing even more. "Professor Ebonyste decided it would be a wise idea to host a post-exam party right after my class finishes. I know that your Foreign Magic teacher really wanted to make sure that you fine students enjoy your dance tonight without having the results of your exams worrying you sick."

"That was very nice of him," Ron said, smiling. He was obviously in a very good mood. "Professor Flitwick, when will we be having the results from _your_ exam?"

"You will receive the results from your Charms exam on the same day as your Transfiguration, Potions, and Clairvoyancy exams," Flitwick said flatly, "and that will be on the first Monday we get back." He then looked at Harry and said, "Before you head over to Professor Ebonyste's room—honestly, that place is more like an _auditorium_ from the size of it—I need to let you know that Professor Lethe wanted to have a quick word with you, and I think it might have something to do with your exam results." Flitwick looked slightly exasperated. "Everyone, I have something for you before you leave here today."

"What is it?" asked Goyle. "Candy?"

"No, it's not candy," Flitwick said, sighing. "I have the results from the Hawkbane Alchemy and Manipulations exams," he looked at Goyle and said, "oh, sorry; I meant that I had something for the students that took the Hawkbane exams _only_." He walked around the room and handed everyone a piece of parchment with a letter grade on it.

While Flitwick was passing out the results, Harry had his fingers crossed. In his opinion, the exam given by Lethe had been rather easy. All she had asked was to name the planets and their coordinating metals, as well as how to make a Coca-Cola can turn into gold. Parenein and Loxias had neither been that great at teaching the subject, but Lethe had been quite a sensation since her arrival. Harry had gone from being on Hawkbane probation to one of the best student Alchemists in a week's time, without even having to study. However, Mortius was a terrible teacher, and his alias as Jules Pyrites only fooled a couple of teachers. Dumbledore had come close to firing him several times, but never could find a legal reason to do so. Almost everyone but Marcus was failing in Manipulations, because Pyrites made everything more difficult than it had to be. "Here you go, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said pleasantly as he handed over Harry's results from Alchemy and Manipulations. "I hope you're satisfied with how you did."

Harry looked at his Manipulations paper with dread. It was as he had suspected; Pyrites had failed him. He quickly realized that he was not the only one; several other people had looks of horror on their faces as well. '_He's a terrible criminal, but an even worse teacher_,' Harry thought as he put the report in his bag, '_Now let's see how I did in Quirrell-Lethe's class._' On the lavender-colored sheet of parchment was a word written in crimson-red ink…an 'Outstanding.' Actually, Lethe had written a comment: "_If there was an 'M' for 'Marvelous' or 'Miraculous,' I would have given you that, but seeing as the 'O' is as far as it goes, I couldn't legally give you an 'M.' I hope you understand_." Harry rolled his eyes. "I was halfway-expecting this one. Hey, Ron, what did you get on your reports?"

"Well, Pyrites failed me—just like he did everyone else—and Lethe gave me an 'Exceeds Expectations,'" Ron said, sighing. "I did better than I thought I would in Alchemy." He then whispered in Harry's ear, "It's kind of hard to picture that cute Irish girl as Quirrell, isn't it?"

Harry groaned. "Shut up, Ron; you're making me sick."

"I didn't mean to," Ron said, laughing. "It's just gross, isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I've got a question for you, Ron."

"Yeah, what is it?" Ron asked, curiously.

"Isis seems to have the notion that the two of you are an item," Harry said, laughing. "I heard it through the LTN—"

"The…what?" Ron was confused. "Are you saying that the Lisa Turpin Network told you?"

"Yes."

"I thought I threatened her into shutting up," Ron grumbled. "Yeah, it's true."

"Oh," Harry sneered, "aren't you two going to look cute together?"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron said, laughing. At that moment, the bell rang. "I guess I'll see you at Ebonyste's room in a little bit." With that, Ron rushed off toward the post-exam party.

Harry, however, had to prepare himself as for what Lethe was going to say to him in private. Instead of going to Turret Three, he went to Turret Six, three staircases up on Turret Row. Before he could even knock on the door, Lethe had opened it. However, she had also shifted back to her original state; a pusillanimous man with a twitching problem. "Come on in," Quirrell said nervously, "I needed to discuss something with you that's very important." He looked absolutely bewildered over this 'something,' but Harry wasn't quite sure what it was.

"I'm missing the beginning of Foreign Magic…why?" Harry asked, glaring at Quirrell. "This couldn't wait?"

"No," Quirrell said rather timidly. "You see, Potter, I know something about Jules Pyrites that you might not. He's really—"

"Mortius the Death Eater and world-renowned Slayer?" Harry asked, trying to complete the sentence. "That's what you wanted to tell me, right?"

"Not really," the teacher argued. "I already knew that, and I know you're bright; you probably figured that one out before I did. But, there is something _else_ you might need to know about that man." He looked from one wall to another, checking every area for some sort of way for Mortius to spy. "He's not even a human anymore, and neither is his wife."

"Then, what is he?" Harry inquired. "Do you know the answer to that?"

"As a matter of fact," Quirrell said, looking quite confident for a change, "having a Sorcerer's Degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts and a Conjuror's Degree in both Alchemy and Necromancy came in handy. The Defense Against the Dark Arts background helped me realize how best to prepare ourselves against these fiends, but the Necromancy classes aided me in realizing what Julius and Stella Cantarus had become."

"Well, out with it!" Harry said. "What are they, and how do we stop them?"

"They are Type B gore crows of the fifth degree," Quirrell said, waiting for Harry to get a frightened look on his face. "Don't you know what that means?"

"I don't have a college degree of _any_ kind yet," Harry cynically replied. "What's it mean?"

"Fifth degree Type B gore crows will still function as humans for a while," Quirrell began; his hands were beginning to shake from nervous shock, "but then end up becoming Dementors. They will not rot to death; they will merely become something so dangerous that they will be feared by many." He bit his lip until black blood was drawn. "It was the Dementors that frightened me the most about Azkaban."

"Was that what you needed to see me about?" Harry asked, beginning to get impatient. He didn't want to miss a free day in Foreign Magic; Ebonyste was sure to throw a great party.

"Yes, but there's one more thing I need to mention," Quirrell said, pulling out a small iron rod about the size of his middle finger. "Do you know what this is?"

"No."

"I should have figured that…" Quirrell said, and then went back on topic. "This is an iron tube filled with a very strong dosage of vampire Elixir, the one thing that Type B gore crows and Dementors hate to get into contact with." He smiled before shifting back into Lethe's form. "Wave this in front of Pyrites and he'll never bother you in public again. Just make sure you're very careful with that rod. If the Elixir gets out, you might experience a temporary personality change." The tardy bell rang, so Lethe wrote something down on another piece of lavender parchment. "Here you are, in case Mr. Filch stops you in the hall. Enjoy your post-exam party, and I'll see you at the Yule Ball."

As Harry went out the door, Lethe shouted out something. "By the way, who are you taking with you over there? Professor McGonagall informed me that you had wanted to take Cho Chang a couple of years ago."

"I'm not taking Cho," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Professor Lethe…who are you taking?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lethe said; a smile curled up on her doll-like face. "I'm taking Stanzi."

"Well, you better make sure everyone thinks you're Juno Lethe," Harry warned. "I don't think Dumbledore would be too happy to know that he hired _you_ again."

"What are you talking about?" Lethe said, swishing her curly hair. "I _am_ Juno Lethe!"

"Sure…" Harry said, walking down the staircases to Turret Three's entrance. No sign of Mrs. Norris or Mr. Filch was spotted, so Harry didn't run into any complications on his journey over to the party. All he had to do was follow the loud panflute music. He knocked on the door, and Ebonyste opened it. "Hello," said Harry, handing the teacher his note from Lethe. "May I come in and join the fun?"

"Well, duh!" Ebonyste shouted, grabbing Harry by the collar of the shirt. He jerked him into the classroom. "We've all been waiting for you to come in. I was just about to cut the cake!"

"Cake?" Harry repeated, unsure of what to think of this. "You baked a cake?"

"Well, I dropped an eggshell in there at one point, but I still think it might end up tasting good," Ebonyste said, sighing. He cut the cake and handed Harry a slice. "Here you are!"

"Thanks," Harry said as he listened to the music Ebonyste had put on for his enchanted mini-stereo to play. It sounded a lot like Yanni, but he couldn't be sure _who_ the musician was. "Who's on the CD, Professor?"

"Nazca," Ebonyste replied. "They play a ton of Native American songs on the panflute." At that moment, his stomach growled. "Damn stomach…" he grumbled, looking around the room. "I'm going to fix myself some of that garlic cheese dip and scrape it onto a Ritz cracker."

Malfoy, Marcus, and several other people were dancing to the music up on the stage where Ebonyste usually held lectures. Blade Runner was playing on the old-fashioned video projector, and a few people were sitting down to watch it, popcorn bowls in their laps. A few presents were in the corner, and Harry guessed that they were Christmas gifts that students had given Ebonyste. Everywhere seemed to pulse with the Christmas spirit, and Ebonyste had even put a few logs in the fireplace to start a Yule fire. Suddenly, the music changed from a pretty panflute song to "You Rock Me, Amadeus." Ebonyste began to dance along with the students, and even did a few numbers with Lisa as his dance partner. "You know, Turpin, you can be such a party animal!" he said, grabbing the girl in the humorous point in the song, even though the entire scene between the half-fairy and the gossip was enough cause for people to laugh.

Harry helped himself to some of the party mix and then turned to face Ron. "Let me guess…you want to know why I got called to Turret Six." When Ron nodded silently, Harry said, "Quirrell gave me something to get rid of Pyrites."

"He was a turncoat for the good side half a decade ago; and now he's ratting out the Death Eaters?" Ron asked, looking pale. "I don't think we should trust in a guy that had He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named literally _stuck_ on him. However, I _would _like to know what he gave you." When Harry pulled out the small iron rod, Ron looked even more confused. "What's that?"

"It's an iron tube filled with vampire Elixir," Harry said. "I'm not quite sure how he got the Elixir in there, though; how would he have access to what passes as blood among vampires?" Suddenly, Harry was struck with the memory of the night of Stanzi's Resurrection; before Lancerie had even appeared out of the shadows, Quirrell had pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal two small holes in his neck. "No, wait…I _do_ know…it was the Resurrector's bite…_Darius Ahsimal_."

"The Necromancy teacher?" Ron was very confused. "I thought Quirrell was scared of vampires, even more-so than You-Know-Who."

"Not anymore," Harry said, "Darius bit him after bringing him back from death."

"And why in the name of Merlin would Ahsimal have brought back someone like Quirrell in the first place?" Ron asked. "It just doesn't make any sense."

"What are you two talking about over there?" Ebonyste asked, pushing Lisa out of the way to get closer to the two Gryffindors. "Is there any reason why you're not eating the assorted nuts and cheeses I'd set out for you to enjoy? I can't take all this junk home; you kids have _got_ to eat it!"

"Mind your own business," Ron said to the teacher. Instead of getting a detention, or even losing points for Gryffindor, he was lucky that all Ebonyste did was walk away after shrugging. "He really needs to know when to go away," he whispered. "I have nothing against Lethe or Talus, but Quirrell's a git, and we _both_ know that from experience. Also, I seriously doubt that he's trying to help us."

"Whether it's for our own good or not doesn't matter," Harry said, putting the rod back in his pocket. "He wants to be rid of Mortius just about as much as we do. Since he's now a vampire like Darius, he's got to conspire against Slayers to save his own skin. Therefore, he wouldn't give me a dud weapon to dispose of one of the world's most powerful Slayers."

"I wish Hermione was here to knock some sense into you," Ron said, walking off. "Isis, would you like me to get you another butterbeer?"

"When did those two become a couple?" Ebonyste asked, bending down to lean his head on Harry's shoulder. His long hair flowed all the way down to Harry's stomach. "I mean Acheron and Weasley, Potter…what do you know about that?"

"Nothing," Harry said, glaring at Ebonyste. "Could you get off of me, Professor?"

"Sure, no problem," Ebonyste said, hopping off to put a Grateful Dead disk in the stereo. On his way over there, he got an enormous smile on his face. "Okay, everyone, do you know what time it is?"

"NO!" Everyone shouted. "What time is it, Professor Ebonyste?"

"It's time for me to open the presents you kind students decided to give me!" Ebonyste said, jumping up and down like a four-year-old that drank an entire three-liter bottle of Pepsi on his own at two in the morning. His ears were twitching, and his hair bounced in virtually every direction, whipped five or six students in the face as he gracelessly came back down to the ground to jump yet again. "I think I'll open up this little bronze box with the blue ribbon first. Who's this from?"

"It's from me, Professor Ebonyste," said Padma Patil. "Parvati and I both picked it out." Ebonyste cheered as he opened up the present to reveal a set of Feng Shui candles. "Do you like?"

"Of course I like these, my dear Patil twins!" Ebonyste said, reaching out to hug both the girls at the same time. "I'll make sure to light these as I do my morning mantras until they burn out. That way, I can think of you two sweethearts each time I meditate." He picked up a bright green parcel and asked, "Who's this one from?"

"I got you that one," Malfoy said, "but it's also from Crabbe and Goyle. I bought it this summer while I went shopping with my dad. I told him I'd be having you for Foreign Magic this year, so he helped me pick out something you'd like." He had a smirk on his face, and looked very smug about his gift.

Ebonyste tackled the little gift and tore the paper to shreds with the vivacity of a hyper toddler. "Oh my!" Ebonyste cheered. "It's a…what is it, Malfoy?" He held 'it' up for everyone to see. It looked like a coffee mug with two handles.

"It's a coffee mug with two handles and has your name on it," Malfoy said, "What on Earth did you think it was, Professor?"

"I thought it was a…oh, never mind," Ebonyste said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a little package wrapped in brown craft paper, tied with a white cotton string. "Is this from you, Weasley?"

"Yes, sir," Ron said. "It's from Ginny, me, and the rest of the family, even Percy."

"Even Fred and George?"

"They contributed too," Ron said, laughing. "They said you were their favorite teacher."

Ebonyste opened the box with a frenzy to see that Mrs. Weasley had knitted him a sweater, and that Fred and George had given him another can of the spray-on Itching Potion. "This is my favorite present so far," he said, rushing over to give Ron a hug. Ron tried to push him away, but it was to no avail; Ebonyste had locked him into an embrace that resembled the jaws of death. "Thank you so much for the wonderful gift. It was so thoughtful of you!" He then shouted loudly, "I just adore the Weasleys! You're all such nice people!"

"Yeah, sure," Ron said. "Could you please get off me now?"

"Oh, sure," Ebonyste said, letting go of Ron. "Let me see," he said, "there's one more present for me, and it's from," he laughed, "Lavender Brown. Come over here, Lavender, so I can give you a hug." Lavender went over there and got hugged by the eccentric American. "Your present's the biggest one under my skimpy little tree," he announced, "so I saved it for last." Once again, he lunged at the gift, and tore the sparkly maroon-and-gold wrapping paper with the Gryffindor insignia on it. Underneath it was a rather large pet carrier. "What's this for?" Ebonyste asked. "All I have is a pet rock; I don't have a _real_ pet."

"That's where my present comes in to play," said Neville as he walked back into the classroom. Following him on a leash was a very shaggy puppy. "He's an English sheepdog," he said, handing the leash over to Ebonyste. "He was at the Animal Shelter and needed a good home. Merry Christmas."

Ebonyste looked like he was about to cry tears of joy. "I've always wanted a dog!" He bent down and started talking to his new companion. "Hello there, Belvedere!" He then turned to the students and said, "By the way, I'm going to try swimming in the punch bowl tonight. Fun, eh?"

The rest of the classes passed by all in a similar way; nobody else threw a party, but it was all easy work. Harry was delighted to realize that he was done with Snape until January. In Manipulations, he had to refrain himself from using the iron rod on Pyrites in public. He doubted that any of his fellow students would stop him from committing the deed, but he knew that Ebonyste _would_ try to put an end to it. After dinner, Harry went up to the dormitory to change into his green dress robe, the one that Mrs. Weasley had picked-out for him a couple of years earlier. The only problem with it was that it had become too short, and a bit too tight in the shoulders. Nonetheless, he put it on anyway, knowing that someone could help him make it fit.

He walked down the hallway and noticed that Morty was moving all his equipment out of the infirmary, and back into Turret Fifteen. "What are you doing?" he asked, slightly confused.

"I'm about to return to Turret Fifteen. According to the Ministry of Magic, it is now safe for me—or anyone else—to reenter that part of the castle. Whatever was in there is more-than-likely gone, so I think I'll take my chances and move back in."

"Either you're a genius or insane," Harry said, sighing. "Need any help?"

"Actually, I think I've got it on my own," Morty said, "but thanks for offering, anyway." He looked at Harry's dress robe and said, "Oh, the Yule Ball is tonight?"

"Yes," answered Harry, "You forgot?"

"I hate to say it, but it must have slipped my mind," Morty replied, and then looked even more carefully at Harry's gimmick. "Unless you want to look like you stole something tight from Darius—which I doubt—how about putting on something a bit more loose for tonight?"

"This is the only robe like this that I have," explained Harry, "and I was wondering if you could alter it for me. I saw you and Darius use a clothing Transfiguration earlier. Could you do that same spell to help a nice student?"

"I don't see any problems with that." Morty pulled out his wand and pointed the tip at Harry. He then muttered the spell with a rather hoarse voice that seemed foreign to his mouth, "_Garbashiftus!_" After casting the spell and fixing Harry's outfit, Morty began to cough. "Sorry; perhaps I'm allergic to something around here. My voice gets rough like that before I sneeze." He opened the door and groaned. "Oh no," he said with a touch of misery, "someone left goldenrod in here." He began to sneeze uncontrollably; the yellowy pollen was _everywhere_.

Somebody had even painted a rather disturbing mantra onto one of the walls; _Beware the Cursemaster, for he is a murderer_. Dried goldenrod dangled from the ceiling with yew berries, henbane, hemlock, and poison ivy. The bleeding fountain was on the desk again, but it was broken. "What the…" he began, looking outraged between his fits of sneezing. "Who would do something like this!" He was waving a very angry index finger at what was pinned on his office door. "Why is the Devil card from a Tarot set stuck there?"

"Ron, Hermione and I found Cyanis in here while you were recovering in the infirmary," explained Harry. "I bet you're wondering why we were in here; we'd gone in, looking to see if we could find what had harmed you in the first place." He sighed. "Cyanis was in here, planting evidence against you." Harry looked at all the scattered and torn books and notebooks. "This will take forever-and-a-day to clean up."

"This room is a disaster area," Morty said, looking utterly miserable. "Just look at this mess; you'd have thought a war had gone on in here."

"Perhaps part of one actually did," Harry said, thinking about what Cyanis had said at that time. "Thanks for fixing my robe. Now I must be off to the Great Hall for the Yule Ball. Are you going, Morty?"

"I think I'll ask Argus to clean this up in the morning, and I bet Aurelius wouldn't mind sharing his room with me for just one night. I still think I might go down there, though. Being cooped up here while everyone else is merry is nothing short of depressing."

Harry and Morty walked into the Great Hall at the same time, and each went to his group of best friends; Morty went to Snape, Darius, and a rough-looking man Harry had never seen before, while Harry went toward Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny. "Hello," said Luna. "How are you, Harry?" She was reading the latest version of the Quibbler. On the cover were previews for a few of the articles, such as:

Manticore Madness: Bewildered Ex-Slayer Tells All in Amazing Interview!

Latest in Undead Rights: Darius Ahsimal Paves the Way for vampires Worldwide

Dumbledore Does It Again: Fudge is Befuddled With Astonishment

Save Our Snape: Is Sixteen-Year-Old Cassandra Snape Innocent or Guilty?

Owner of the Nightly Oracle Newspaper Plans to Teach at Hogwarts

"Actually, that last article is a pretty interesting one," Luna said, pointing at it. She yawned and said, "Lycaon Fenrir will be teaching Phobomancy next semester. I know his second daughter, Cora. She's my study buddy on Tuesdays." She then looked at Neville and asked, "Didn't she date Richard?"

"Who?"

"Richard Fallowin," Luna repeated. "You know him as Rick or Ricky-pluck-your-mole."

"Oh, _that_ Richard!" Ginny said, laughing. "Look, Luna, we're all dressed up for the Yule Ball, so why are you sitting there _reading_?"

"Nobody's going to dance with me anyway, so I don't see why I _can't_ read," Luna said, looking at the crossword puzzle with the deepest concentration. "Hm…I think this word is _Amphisbaena_…and this one's _Cerberus_…"

"She's hopeless sometimes," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I think I'll ask someone to dance with me." She looked around at the crowd and then said, "Say, Harry…you wouldn't mind one little dance, would you?"

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised at Ginny's suggestion. "Are you _sure_ you want to dance?"

"Of _course_ I'm sure," Ginny said, tapping her foot. "Look, I only want one dance."

"That I can manage," Harry said, glad that Ginny didn't want to be territorial around him. '_She isn't my girlfriend anyway_,' he thought as he began to dance to a rather disturbing song by Lancerie; it was about a young man committing suicide by adding hemlock to his wine:

"_And here it is…my final drink!_

_I raise my glass to you, Socrates,_

_For we died in the same way._

_Let the same boatman take me to Hades._

"_As I die, I do now recall_

_I was captivated by your spell._

_I killed myself, just for you._

_So now, forever, I'll burn in hell._

"_Let me go peacefully;_

_Stifle my subhuman screams._

_It was not the poison that killed me,_

_Nothing's all that it seems._

"_It was you, oh my lover_

_That put me to the end._

_Where I thought I had kissed fate,_

_It was the kiss of a friend._

"_Traitor to Life, Killer of Youth_

_That is what I became once I died._

_Even if I wanted to see you again,_

_I could not leave if I tried._

"_Ixion, Sisyphus, and Tantalus_

_The three men I know well_

_Are tormented in Tartarus_

_Along with me in Hell."_

"He sure is something, isn't he?" Ginny asked after the song was over. It was then that people began to enter for the festivities. She handed Harry a small present. "Merry Christmas from Ron, me, and the rest of the Weasley family," she said, "except Percy; we've disowned him." Harry opened up the gift to see that Mrs. Weasley had made him a sweater and some candy.

"Ron, I'll give you and Ginny your Christmas presents on Christmas, if that's alright with you," Harry said, laughing. Ginny rolled her eyes, but Ron thought it was funny. Apparently, so did Luna; she was sniggering from behind the Quibbler. A crow flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder. A nacho was in its beak. "Oh, hello Aurelius," he whispered. He turned to Luna and the others. "Would the four of you mind following me to a quiet area for a moment?"

"Where?" asked Luna.

"I don't know," Harry said, rattling his brain for an idea, "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Everyone followed Harry all the way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, just as he suggested. "Okay, I need to tell you guys why this crow landed on my shoulder so suddenly."

"Crows are the omens of death," Luna said flatly. "I read that in Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock's 'Catalogue of Superstitions Used in Divination,' and I believe in Hemlock more than Trelawney." She yawned and said, "She writes articles for the Quibbler sometimes, and I think she's pretty nice outside of the classroom."

The wailing ghost had spotted the group of friends, and looked them in the eye. "What do you want?" she yelped mournfully.

"Myrtle," Harry said, "we were wondering if we could keep a secret in here." Myrtle didn't look convinced. "If you like, I can tell you too, but you've got to promise to keep this under wraps. Don't tell _anyone_ about this, okay?"

"Okay," Myrtle said, "I promise." She looked rather eager to hear the secret. "When I was alive, nobody ever told me anything." The toilet lid shut, and Myrtle had arrived, placing herself between Ron and Harry. "So, what's so secret you had to go in here?"

"Well," Harry said, looking at the crow on his shoulder. "Are you going to tell them, or am I going to have to do so?" The crow gave a rather human-like nod, much to the confusion of the entire group of friends, even Moaning Myrtle.

"I've only been able to see one crow do that," Myrtle exclaimed, "Aurelius Fallowin!"

Neville, Ginny, and Ron all began to run out of the room, until Harry used a spell to lock the door. "No! We're not going anywhere. I had to go some place quiet to tell you guys this." At that precise moment, the crow had flown over to the sink and had shifted into a rather malnourished man. His hair was down to right above his shoulders, a mess, and his amber eyes had sunken in a little bit. He looked as if he had lost quite a bit of weight since the last time Harry had seen him, and he had been underweight then as well. "My friends, I would like you to meet Aurelius Fallowin, the alleged rogue of the Department of Relics and so-called murderer of the Skylarkes."

All the others were silent, except Luna, who did not seem to be afraid of Aurelius at all. "I know you didn't steal anything or murder the Skylarkes, Mr. Fallowin."

"I prefer Aurelius, if you don't mind," Aurelius said, but looked about as shocked as the other Gryffindors. "Wait a minute…you think I'm innocent?"

"No," Luna said, "I think you're the guy that vandalized Gringotts about fourteen years ago. I looked over the articles on you, and that's the only one that was published in the Daily Prophet, save the day of your arrest." She looked at him with a rather clear-minded and analytical face, which was rather unusual for her. "Why didn't you put up a fight when you were arrested?"

"What would have been the point?" Aurelius asked, letting out a heavy sigh. "I was outnumbered by seven-to-one. The only thing I had going for me was my advanced lessons in the Dark Arts. At that time, I believe I was the only Gryffindor student that was even interested in learning that stuff. The passion for it came along with being friends with the people I had selected as my companions." He looked at the window and asked, "Myrtle, I know it's been a long time since you saw me in here for You-Know-What, but could you tell me if that window is locked or not?" He looked at the frightened students in the corner, trying to get out of the room. "I'm _not_ going to hurt you!"

"You can believe him," Harry said, walking over toward Aurelius. "With my training as a Legilimens, I'd be able to tell if you were trying to lie to us." With that, Aurelius looked quite relieved to see that Harry actually believed his story. Harry looked at Ron, Ginny, and Neville. "Are you three going to panic and call the Aurors on him?"

"He's _not_ Sirius, Harry," Ron said. "Don't confuse Aurelius Fallowin with Sirius Black."

"For all we know," Neville said, "he could be like the Lestranges or the Malfoy."

"Didn't Harry tell you? He pried in my thoughts, and found that I wasn't lying to you," Aurelius said, laughing lightly until he stifled a cough. "Isn't that all the evidence you need, or are you going to disbelieve one of your closest friends? In the circle I was part of, that wouldn't be considered good courtesy toward a person you care about."

Neville began to walk up toward Aurelius, and his right hand was stretched out to shake Aurelius's left one. "If Harry says you're innocent, I guess I've got no other choice than to take his word for it. I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Were your parents Frank and Alice Longbottom, by any chance?" Aurelius asked. "I recall seeing them quite often before I spray-painted the Dark Mark on Gringotts."

"Just because we're curious, we'd like to know _why_ you decided to do the Dark Mark if you were never a Death Eater," Ginny said, folding her arms. "It doesn't make sense."

"It does if you're a genuine practical joker," Aurelius said. "Harry mentioned to me earlier, Miss Weasley, that you have two older brothers that delight in tricks. Aren't their names Fred and George, and aren't they the proud owners of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"

"It's all true," Ron said, answering for Ginny. "What are you getting at?"

"They're not Death Eaters, but from what one of my teacher-friends up here said about their behavior, I wouldn't put it past them to try to do something similar to what I did," Aurelius said, letting out a rather heavy yawn. "I asked the Headmaster to be nice and fix me a small plate of the food being served down there; I can't risk eating any of that party food in the only form I'm safe in at the present time." He faced Moaning Myrtle again. "I'm begging you, along with everyone else that has now seen and spoken to me, _please_ don't report me."

"I swear by my parents," Neville said, "I won't rat you out and betray a friend of Harry's."

"Same for me," added Ginny.

Ron sighed. "But, if I find out you've been lying to us this whole time, Fallowin…I'll personally hand you over to the Aurors."

"I, for one, think you're innocent," Luna said. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Who have I got to tell it to, anyway?" asked Myrtle. "Nobody ever comes up here, and I'm not really a popular ghost." She looked rather teary-eyed, but smiled. "I'm glad you guys were nice and let me in on this, though." With those words, she leapt back into the toilet. Aurelius bowed before the students, and then shifted back into a crow, gracefully landing on Harry's shoulder.

Back in the Great Hall, the Yule Ball was still going on. Harry had a few more dances with Ginny, and a couple with Luna, but he really wasn't interested in dancing. '_Did I do the right thing in letting them know about Aurelius_?' he thought miserably. _'What if he ends up going to Azkaban because of me?_' Since he couldn't continue his merry fun in the punch bowl, Ebonyste had enchanted it by putting an undine in there. Each boy that came along got grabbed tenderly and heard it say, "Don't you want me? I'd make you so happy, you know." If he said nothing in response, she would sigh and say, "Fine; just drink me, then."

The school was decorated very nicely for the holidays, and all the teachers—including Snape and Morty—looked about as happy as the students, even though Morty had found years of his work trashed and torn up around his room only a while earlier. Snape was talking to the hooded figure with a rather amused expression on his face. "Yes, it will be nice to have another one in our group coming to Hogwarts. Lycaon, when exactly are you moving in for Phobomancy?"

"December 30th, if you want a precise date," the hooded man said. "I'm sure that Naomi and Cora won't be too thrilled to find their dad teaching a Dark Art up here…but I think Marpessa will like it next year. She's always been the one that acts more like a Fenrir than a Rookwood out of the three of them." He looked around at the students a bit and said, "They look pretty decent."

"Don't be fooled," Darius said, cutting into the conversation along with Morty. "Most of these kids have the brains of Neanderthals."

"You think so?" Lycaon Fenrir asked, pulling down his hood. Harry's eyes focused on the character of this man for the longest time; he had hair about as red as a Weasley's, his amber eyes seemed to be able to see more than the usual eye would, and his features were sharp, angular, and chiseled. Toned muscles could be seen from underneath the green sweater he was wearing, but he was really not that tall. Probably just shy a couple of inches from six feet. Harry could tell that he was taller than Fenrir easily, but Fenrir _still_ did not look like the kind of person that could be defeated in a fist fight. For the strangest reason, Lupin popped into Harry's mind when he looked at Fenrir. Suddenly, Fenrir turned around and Harry found himself looking at the man face-to-face. "I've heard all about you from my friends up here," Fenrir said, "so I know who you are, Potter."

"And I know who you are, Mr. Fenrir," Harry said, with a smirk on his face. "You're the person in charge of the Nightly Oracle, am I correct?"

"Yes," Fenrir said, looking amused, "I'm the same Lycaon Fenrir." He held out a hand for Harry to shake with. Fenrir was wearing a glove, but holes had been sliced so his bare, sinewy fingers would protrude through it. On his left middle finger was the Nemesarist's Ring. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter, and I hope you will be considering my Phobomancy class for a next-term elective."

"I don't even know what it is," Harry said, "so how could I consider taking it?"

"Phobomancy is the Magic of Fears," Snape said, cutting in. "I am rather gifted at Occlumency, as you—and my colleagues here—already know; Morty is—and has always been—a Curses, Rootwork, and Voodoo prodigy; Darius is probably the world's greatest—and definitely the most experienced—Necromancer to have ever lived; Aurelius—whom I _know_ you've already met—is a very talented Exorcist, and picked one of the hardest animals to become an Animagus for; and I'd rather take my chances with the Dementors than Lycaon in a bad mood." He looked at Fenrir and said, "Don't think this means I'm intimidated by you. That is a lie."

The entire dance was cancelled suddenly when Dumbledore came out and said, "We must close the party, everyone. I am most grieved to see that someone that came all the way from Bulgaria had to meet a most unfortunate fate. Hogwarts was open to all, but it seems that the graduates of Durmstrang and worldwide Quidditch fans will be mourning the loss of Viktor Krum."

"It was the gorgonix!" Ebonyste screamed. "It just _had_ to be!"

"We found these in his hands," said McGonagall, holding up a very pretty bouquet of flowers. "It was addressed to Hermione Granger." She then let out a rather grievous sigh, "What a pity he couldn't get them to her."

Dumbledore said, "Hogwarts will be closed to out-of-school visitors. All students, please go back to your dormitories at this time with a teacher escort. Talus, please escort the Gryffindors…"

_OK, I can see that this story is being read, but I just don't understand why I only have 12 reviews. Please, if anyone who has read the story would just review just once, that would be great! I surely don't expect anyone to review every chapter! That would be insane! But just half of the hits I have on this story would leave one review, I'd be quite happy! Let me know how I'm doing, if you like the story or not, whatever you want to say!_

_Thanks, and take care all! Professor Skylarke_


	27. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Hogwarts Dueling Club, Revisited

Krum's death had been sudden and shocking at the same time. Harry was rather unhappy about this unfair occurrence, but he knew that when Hermione was conscious and found out, she'd be the one who would be the most upset. Stanzi had looked rather confused about the whole ordeal, and had asked Harry right after everyone started heading back to the dormitories.

"I've got to do my teacher-detective work in a moment, but there's something I think I'm supposed to know that I don't have a clue about. Who's Viktor Krum?"

"He's a prodigy Quidditch player that Hermione was dating," Harry explained, "and he kept calling her 'Herm-own-ninny.' It was pretty funny for us, but frustrating for her."

After Stanzi had thanked him for clarifying the situation and wandered off to help the other adults look for the cause of Krum's death, Harry went back to the Gryffindor Tower. Winnefred and Steve were in the Common Room, reading the Daily Prophet along with the rest of the First Years. The Second Years and Third Years were skulking about the tower, most of which were grieving. The Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Years sat in chairs in the Common Room, watching whomever was younger very carefully, just in case the murderous thing had come for them next. It seemed everyone was mourning for Krum, but was terrified to go anywhere else. Harry sat with Ron and Neville. "This was a disaster. Tonight had such a great chance to be a memorable night."

"It _is_ a memorable night," Ron said. "A foreign Quidditch star has died at Hogwarts."

"I think Harry meant a merrily memorable night," Neville said, stretching out in one of the chairs. "Wait a minute…where are the Seventh Years?"

Harry looked around to see what Neville was talking about; he couldn't find but a couple of Seventh Years. Curious, he looked in the dormitory to see if any of them were in there. He found them hiding out, but one of them was missing. "Atticus?" he called out, especially worried for his celebrity friend. "Atticus?"

"Yes?" Atticus said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Where were you?" Harry asked, looking at his friend. He couldn't read Atticus's expression; it was in the late of night, and Atticus _still_ wore his sunglasses.

"I was talking to Phoebus, okay?" Atticus said, sighing. "I missed the Yule Ball because I'd rather study how to control a Manticore than deal with Colin Creevey's camera." He looked around each and every corner and sighed with relief as Colin didn't show up on cue. "I'm going back downstairs to see what's going on—"

"What if it's the gorgonix!" Neville squeaked from the corner.

"Then I'll petrify it," Atticus said haughtily before wheeling out. "See you later, everyone."

Harry couldn't believe it; his friend was going out there without protection, expecting to survive against whatever-it-was when _Viktor Krum _had not been able to. "Fool," he muttered under his breath. "Not even _I'd_be that thickheaded."

"You've been that thick before," Ron said, sighing. "Believe me; I'd know. What about that time you fought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in that cemetery?"

"It's not like I had any other choice," Harry snarled. "Atticus is just _racing_ to his death, and we're doing nothing to stop him." He got up from his seat and said, "I'm going to follow him."

"Harry, no!" Neville said. "Dumbledore wanted us to be safe and stay in Gryffindor Tower." Suddenly, he realized something. "Oh dear…Talus was supposed to stay in here with us!"

"Well, I'll go help her, too," Harry said, walking out. "I'll see you and Ron later."

"I can't believe you're doing this," Ron sounded quite disappointed. "Just don't die on us, okay? We need you to stop You-Know-Who."

"Unless the thing responsible for the murders is Voldemort himself, I don't think that it'll kill me," Harry said confidently. "Only Voldemort can destroy me, nobody less. I'll survive."

"But what if it _is_ You-Know-Who?" Ron asked, bewildered. "You could die, Harry!"

"I'd be with Stanzi and Atticus, wouldn't I?" He closed the door on Ron, Neville, and the rest of the Gryffindors. "In case I don't come back, goodbye." With those parting words, he walked down the stairs until he caught up with Atticus. "I'm coming with you."

"That's nice to know," Atticus said, a smirk on his face. "Everyone talks about how powerful we are. I wonder if Voldemort would stand a chance against the two of us _together_." He laughed a bit, rather quietly, and then looked at Harry. "We will find it, I'm sure of that."

"How can you be so sure that—" Harry was interrupted by Atticus's sudden movement. He looked to see where the Seventh Year was pointing, and he saw the bloodied trail of footprints that somebody had left behind. "Are we going to follow those?"

"Silence," Atticus said, focusing his attention directly on the path. He wheeled over, following wherever the prints took him. Harry simply followed, a bit unsure of what was at the end of the path. After going to the bottom floor, Atticus even began exiting the castle and headed out toward the Forbidden Forest.

"The blood hasn't stopped yet," he said, continuing the search. "Whoever it was that got hurt had to have been wounded rather deeply." The footprints turned around sharply and the two friends followed them to the Labyrinth. "Does it ever cease?" Atticus grumbled under his breath. "The blood keeps getting thicker and fresher…I can almost sense the heat that had come from the wounded person."

As soon as he said it, Harry realized where they were; the statue of Glaucus Goldman stared at the two boys blankly. "What the—" Harry pointed at a silhouette about fifty meters away. "I bet that's who we were tracking, Atticus."

"Let's sneak up on whoever it is," Atticus said, taking off his sunglasses. "Harry, whatever you do, don't look at my face. I'd hate to turn you into a statue since you're not only my friend, but you're the only one that stands a chance against Voldemort." He pulled out his wand and said, "I'm ready whenever you are." Harry said nothing, but gave Atticus the thumb. "Let's do this, then…"

With that, Atticus raised his wand, ready to cast out a spell. "_Impedimenta!_" he shouted loudly. The silhouette seemed to freeze off in the distance, and struggled to move at all. Atticus and Harry rushed over to the hardly-moving person to see who it was that they had stopped. "Harry, look at the prints!" Atticus shouted, pointing at the floor again. "There's a second set of footprints that are beginning to glow blue."

Harry looked down to see what Atticus was talking about, and was astonished to see that his friend did not stretch the truth at all; there truly _was_ a second set of prints, and they were _not_ humanlike at all. Nonetheless, the two friends rushed over toward the person they had used the incantation on. "Who is it?" Harry asked. "Atticus, can you tell?"

"I'm not looking," Atticus said nervously, "just in case he or she is on our side."

"_Lumos,_" Harry said, making his wand light up. He looked at the wounded person and recognized him immediately. "Phoebus?"

"Oh, hello Harry," Phoebus said, groaning. "You let it get away."

"Pardon?" Atticus said from the shadows. "What did we let get away, Phoebus?"

Phoebus looked around and said, "I saw the gorgonix, boys."

Harry helped his friend get up. "So you saw it? What did it look like?"

"Well, for a moment, it looked like a man with long hair," Phoebus mentioned, "but then it shifted into a rather ugly devil about thrice my height. Knowing that it would target after students and that it is my duty as the Special Interest Librarian to help the youth of Hogwarts as best I can, I decided to follow it." For a moment, a look of pride had found its way on his face, but then it was etched away with an expression of fear. "Well, look at me now. Can't you tell he got me?"

"You mean he's in _you_?" Atticus snarled.

"NO!" Phoebus shouted. "He got me; he picked me up and bashed me about. Do you ever use your common sense, Mr. Shadow the Ninth?" Atticus said nothing more, and turned his head away from Phoebus. "Hey, you're supposed to face conflict like a man; it's bad manners to snub someone like that. Show your face, Shadow."

"I don't think you really want me to do that," Atticus said, "I'm not wearing my sunglasses at the moment, and I'm very sure you don't want to become a rock."

"Hold on, my friend," Harry said, looking at Phoebus carefully. "Did you get a half-decent look at the long-haired man? How long was his hair? Is there any chance he was a student?"

"Well, his hair was a bit fluffy and went down to where his shoulder blades probably are. As for him being a student, there's no chance. His silhouette looked as if he was a teacher, and he even sounded like one. I couldn't tell which one he was, but there's no question about him being an adult." Phoebus shivered. "I didn't get a good look at his face, but he _did_ cover my mouth with a gloved hand, and he was wearing glasses."

"That's quite a lead," Atticus said, scooting onward. "Thanks, Phoebus."

"Hold on, Shadow!" Phoebus shouted, painfully getting off the ground. "What are you doing?"

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" Atticus snapped. "I'm following the gorgonix to see whom needs an appointment with the Slayers."

"Don't let him go out there by himself, Harry," Phoebus said, limping back toward the school. "I'm not going any further. That thing is more dangerous than I'd thought. To tell the truth, I'd believed the whole gorgonix thing was nothing more than a horrible gag or cover-up for a serial killer like Sirius Black—"

"Shut up," Harry said, following Atticus.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPH

The next morning, Atticus sat with Celia and Josh, telling them that he had almost found out who the gorgonix was. Harry did the same thing with his audience of friends and acquaintances. "Ron, this is something interesting…Phoebus Stellian saw the gorgonix carrier last night, and we have reason to believe from the things he saw that Morty is the Carrier."

"Are you sure he wasn't pulling your leg?" Ron didn't sound convinced.

"I'm affirmative," Harry said, folding his arms. "Phoebus wouldn't have hurt _himself_ that badly. He's in the infirmary at the moment, so you can talk to him—if he's willing to cooperate—while we go and visit Hermione." He looked down at his watch and groaned. "Oh, I forgot that I've got to see Darius for a Hawkbane counseling session. Ron, don't you need to see Furrier?"

"Yeah," Ron said, walking away. "I'll meet you outside the Infirmary, okay?"

Harry took one last sip of his pumpkin juice, and then got up to start walking toward Turret Thirteen. Snow was gently falling outside, and the Christmas decorations were up. It was very nice to realize that he did not have school again until January, and that this was the last required academic thing he had to do until then. Another nice thought was the fact that Darius was now his Hawkbane, and not Snitchgrass; he'd rather have the vampire than Voldemort's ex-girlfriend of years past. After the walk up several staircases and corridors, Harry knocked on the door.

"Darius? I'm here for Hawkbane purposes."

"Is it you, Harry?" asked Darius, creaking the door open rather timidly. "Cain and Adonis came over here earlier with garlic cloves, so I know I can't be too careful around this time of year."

He shuddered. "Now that I don't have my Necromancy students to protect me from those jerks, they'll be harassing me for the entire holiday without anyone on my side." He bit his lip and said, "Of course, you probably want to spend Christmas at Grimmauld Place with the Order of the Phoenix?" Darius opened the door wider. "Feel free to come on in, Harry. You're my guest."

"Are you part of the Order?" Harry whispered, going into the tower. The gruesome smell of rotting flesh and embalming fluid wafted out of all areas, and filled his unfortunate nostrils with that pungent odor rather hastily.

"No," Darius said, closing the door rather abruptly. "I'd never even consider becoming part of the Order, and would rather be a Death Eater." He looked at the mark on his pure white forearm and sighed. "And even those days are over. I am not on the best of terms with the Headmaster. He only tolerates me because I'm an undying tradition at the school; I was the first professor that Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff hired to teach, and I've been here ever since."

He went to the window, opened it, and pulled in a bag of chilled blood to sip on through a straw. "Nobody ever asked me to become part of the Order, but if I were asked, I would most politely decline the invitation."

"How did you know about the Order if you have never even been offered membership?" Harry was a bit confused. "It's supposed to be a top-secret society like Nemesarium."

The friendly and slightly-haughty look on Darius's effeminate face diminished and was replaced with a look of bitterness. "You don't know enough about Nemesarium to use it as an example in this case. Nemesarium and the Order have next to nothing in common. As for knowing about the Order, I found out all about it when I was still the Dark Lord's assistant. Oh, all of my contemporary Death Eaters knew about it, so your precious Order isn't as secret as you'd like to think. I know of what went on in there while your parents were still alive. Peter Pettigrew gave us live updates."

"That explains it," Harry said flatly. "If you're not a Death Eater anymore, Darius, then why exactly do you still oppose the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Because," Darius said in a very soft voice. "I keep Nemesarium in the forefront of my mind, and will not compromise with others that become entirely one-sided. Nobody should be ignorant to what is on the other side. If you know both ends of the story, a person can think for oneself instead of a common view shared by several. In a sense, both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix have the same major doctrine; one side is better than the other. After I became a Nemesarist, I learned to think entirely for myself and realized that I could find equilibrium in the Grey Magic Theory that Morty presented." He yawned and said, "I think Talus wanted me to tell you that the first Dueling Club meeting is this evening. Now, where was I about Nemesarium?"

"You found a place in-between good and evil with the Grey Magic Theory," Harry said, paraphrasing the vampire. "Darius, the only way I'd be able to understand Nemesarium is if I got to experience it in person."

"That _is_ true," Darius replied, and scrambled about to find a calendar filled with nothing but dates and pictures of gothic fairies. "Our next meeting will be held in the Black Annis on January 2nd, and I'm pretty sure that Morty wouldn't mind having you come to one meeting." He shrugged and said, "I'm sure that most of the stuff we do will appeal to you. We do not follow anyone as a leader; Morty is the founder, but we don't do everything he asks us to do, unless it's in our own free will."

A rather warm smile appeared on Darius's womanly face as he handed Harry one of the pewter-and-obsidian rings…the ring of a Nemesarist. "Don't put it on unless you decide to join us. It doesn't come off, even after death." Archimedes, Morty's great horned owl, flew through the open window with a message in his talons. Darius rushed over toward the message and opened the envelope. "I don't see why he sends these; he's only two towers away from me, so he could always get up and walk." A trembling finger pointed at the letter. "This isn't from Morty; this is from Aurelius…Morty fainted again. Harry, I'm very sorry about this, but I'm going to have to conclude our session early. I've got to help my dear friend!" He rushed out the door, but quickly halted to add one more comment. "Just make sure you lock up after you're done in here. I don't want the Slayers to come in."

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The evening was much more lighthearted; nobody had left for the Christmas holidays yet, and although tragedy had occurred just the night before, no change of plans had been made. Professor Constanza E. Talus was going to preview the "new" Dueling Club for the students in the auditorium nobody used anymore. A small room was next to it, and had a plaque with her name on it to indicate that area as her office. Since nobody used the Auditorium on the Fourth Floor anymore, Stanzi had asked Dumbledore for permission to make that the Dueling Club headquarters. It was a large room filled with chairs and an enormous stage.

"Welcome to our orientation meeting, everyone!" Stanzi shouted as the students took their seats. Her short hair was hanging loosely, mostly in her face, and she was wearing a rather tight dress coat that dangled all the way down to the seat of her pale blue Capri pants. She also had on a pair of mirror-like trapezoid sunglasses, earrings that looked like pyramids, and lace-up leather boots to match the corset-like front of her coat. Striped stockings went up her legs, and everyone could see them where the pants ended, bronze-and-blue to represent Ravenclaw. For the first time in a while, she looked like the rebellious young lady Harry recognized from the compact mirror.

"I'm glad to see how many of you are interested in learning about Dueling. To some of you, like the First Years, this is probably a very new experience, but some of you, like the Seventh Years, have had experience in Dueling before." She pointed to the theater-style doors. "So, everyone, what do you think of our new headquarters?"

"It's nice!" shouted Cho Chang, sitting in the front row with her friends. Harry tried not to stare at her; he still thought she was very attractive, but he knew that he should be focusing his attention elsewhere…like on Stanzi's welcoming lecture for the club. The Ravenclaws all began to agree with Cho, and then Celia made sure to back up the cheering even more by clapping.

"I'm glad you think so," Stanzi said, smiling. She put her left hand up to her face, and began to chew on her thumbnail a bit. "Now, what was I going to say? Oh, I remember now! I am delighted to see how many of you thought this would be worth your time. I'm going to cover some of the basic rules of Dueling in this orientation meeting. As you probably already know, I am Professor Talus, and this is what I'm getting paid to do…show you how to duel properly." She looked into the crowd and said, "I think only the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years remember when Gilderoy Lockhart was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher up here at Hogwarts. During that year, the Potions Master graciously decided to help out with this club. I'm glad to say he's still being a good sport about all of this, so, without further ado, I'd like to give a nice, warm welcome to Professor Severus Snape for helping me prepare for this after-school club!"

Snape skulked out onto the stage, did a quick wave, and began to scan the audience for Slytherins, whom he smiled at icily once he spotted them. "Thank you for that introduction," he said dryly. After those few words, he pulled out his wand. "I strongly suggest you make the same maneuver I just did. Whether you're ready or not, Talus, I am prepared to give the students an example of a practical duel."

"We'll do that in a moment, Professor Snape," Stanzi said as she whipped her pine wand out of a back pocket in her pants. "I'd like to get a little feedback from the students before we begin cursing each other up here on the stage." Her face turned toward the audience. "Alright…does _anyone_ have a question for me before Professor Snape and I spar it off?"

"I've got a question," Ron said, raising his hand. "Won't it be hard for you to duel in those high-heeled platform ankle-boots?"

"I wore the heavy shoes for one reason," Stanzi said, stomping her foot to emphasize the heaviness of her footwear, "and that reason is to help me stand my ground. Sometimes your opponent will use a spell that will cause you to fly up in the air. Wearing heavier shoes can help when you don't want to float away."

"That makes sense," Luna said to Harry. "I think I'm going to like this woman."

"She's pretty nice," Harry said back. "I wonder who's going to win the duel; Professor Snape or Professor Talus?" He watched as Stanzi did a back flip up on the stage. "How did she manage to do that? I thought she said those shoes were heavy!"

"It will be hard for others to lift me up, but I've got rather strong legs," Stanzi said, laughing merrily. "It comes from having a banshee for a mother. Besides, I do my morning yoga stretches every day. That could help too, don't you agree?"

"Look, Talus," Snape said impatiently. "I'm ready to duel you, and I'm tired of waiting on you. Quit showing off in front of the students." Stanzi wasn't even paying attention to what Snape was saying; she was wrapping duct tape all around her left hand, which held her wand. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing_ now_?"

"This is another sneaky trick, students," Stanzi said, an impish grin spreading across her face. "By taping your hand up with your wand firmly attached, there is no chance of losing your wand and becoming entirely defenseless." After she finished using the _entire_ roll, she balled up her other hand into a fist, and began to imitate Rocky Balboa. "Alright, Professor Snape; let's begin!"

After turning to face one another, Snape decided to test Stanzi's duct tape theory. "_Expelliarmus!_" Stanzi wasn't flung backwards, and her wand did not eject from her hand; she was standing, still armed. "Damn."

"You were saying, Professor?" she jeered, and did a cartwheel before shouting out her spell, "_Intolerarus!_" As Snape began to cringe from the pain, so did Harry; he knew _exactly_ how the Potions Master was feeling at the moment. "Everyone, I just used the Intolerable Curse on Professor Snape," Stanzi said, still giving a lecture while Dueling. "Does anyone in here know how it works?" Harry raised his hand. "Yes, Harry; do tell us!"

"It feels like you're skin's being ripped to shreds by millions of little teeth," Harry said. He watched as a bunch of the First and Second Years flinched after that description had been made. Stanzi nodded to indicate what Harry had just said was nothing less than the truth.

"_Sophorus Moritum!_" Snape shouted, still obviously hurting from the Intolerable. Harry and the other students (as well as Professor Snape) waited to see Stanzi flip backwards, since that was what was _supposed_ to happen with the spell. True to the incantation, Stanzi _did_ flip, and landed on her bottom.

"Ow…" she grumbled, rubbing her sore rump. Quickly managing to get up, she said, "It's okay, everyone; I just think it'll be a bit bruised tomorrow." Stanzi looked at her audience even further and chuckled. "Now, I'll show you a spell that will make the Intolerable Curse even _more_ painful. _Amplifius!_" Snape stumbled backwards, doubling over in pain. "Are you going to give up yet, Professor Snape, or am I going to have to do that a few more times?"

"I'm not giving up to a punk like you, Talus," Snape spat, trying as hard as he could to get back on his feet without having the Intolerable Curse get agitated. "Let's see if your footwear and agility will save you from this one…_Magarus Avedra!_" For a moment, it looked as if Stanzi would fly around the room and plummet into the bleachers painfully. Most ironically though, Snape could not manage to pry the young woman's feet off the ground but a couple of inches. All his powerful incantation could do to her was lift her hardly off the floor and make her land on her bottom again.

"OW!" Stanzi shouted, clutching her buttocks with her ring-adorned hands. She took the Intolerable off of Snape and said, "I'll be a good sport and surrender to you. Just don't bruise my ass again." Snape helped her get up reluctantly, and then took a seat. Stanzi, however, was not finished. "You just witnessed a fair duel—"

"That was _not_ a fair fight," Snape argued. "You cheated."

"No, I didn't," Stanzi said, holding up a pamphlet that contained _all_ the rules of proper Dueling. "Not once did it say I couldn't duct-tape my hand to keep my wand in tact or refrain myself from wearing heavy-weighted shoes." She looked at the students and said, "Okay, you saw how _we_ fought up here. Could I get two student volunteers to duel? This is the last extracurricular thing we'll be doing until January. Most of you are about to leave the school for the holidays, so why not have a little bit of fun on your last day here until next semester?"

"Let's see," Snape said cynically, "a young man died just last night, so perhaps enjoyment in something would be considered taboo. Although you did not necessarily play fairly in our duel, I did thoroughly enjoy myself, Talus."

"We'll pick two people out of the crowd to duel. Professor Snape will pick someone, and I'll pick his-or-her opponent," Stanzi looked delighted to be able to sit her butt down once again.

"I think I will select Fallowin to duel," Snape said. "As the only Fourth Year in the Hawkbane Program, I'm sure he'll do well against whomever you choose."

"Very well," Stanzi said, "I'm picking Weasley."

"Which one?" Ron and Ginny shouted from the crowd. The Gryffindors all laughed.

"Ginny Weasley, please come up here!" Stanzi cheered. As Ginny walked up, Stanzi offered her the duct tape. "Would you like to use it?"

"Not really, Professor Talus," Ginny said. "I'll manage without it, but thanks for the offer."

"Really," Stanzi said, laughing, "you'll do just fine. Fallowin's got that rather large mole blocking part of his vision, so I think he won't be that big of a threat, Hawkbane-sponsored or not."

"Well, I'm not Hawkbane-sponsored, and I'm _not_ a Slytherin," Ginny protested. "He might know more Curses than me."

Stanzi patted Ginny on the back. "I doubt that, sweetheart. Just beat him in the duel, and you'll be just fine." She chuckled a bit and said, "You get first move."

"Okay," Ginny said hesitantly. "Prepare yourself, Rick, because I've got the first move." She held her breath for a moment, and then shouted, "_Magarus Nistenia!_" A globe of gold mist surrounded Ginny until it seemingly disappeared. "It's your turn. I'm done."

"That was ingenious, Miss Weasley!" Stanzi shouted, jumping up and down excitedly. "I hope all of you caught that incantation. It is a very good one to have memorized for your own convenience. You'll see why in a moment."

"_Priaxa Nervata!_" Rick shouted, expecting the Priaxa Curse to turn Ginny's bone marrow into molten lead. Instead, it seemed to bounce off of her and back onto him. "OW!" he shouted, and began to scream in agony. "SOMEONE, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!"

"Stop being a wimp, Fallowin," Snape said. "What would your father say if he could see you right now?" Rick wasn't listening to Snape; he was too busy squirming around painfully on the floor to even bother to listen to what the Potions Master had to say.

"It's my turn," Ginny told herself. "Er…_Priaxa Requiescat_?" She wasn't exactly sure if that would stop the Priaxa Curse, but it worked effectively on Rick by making him quit hurting. Therefore, she had used the right Countercurse to help the unfortunate Slytherin boy. "Rick, your turn again."

"I'm…I'm giving up," Rick said, dropping his wand. "I don't want to duel anymore." He ran out of the auditorium, screaming in agony. Ginny blinked in amazement; she had just been made a champion of the Dueling Club.

"That was an excellent choice for a starter spell, Miss Weasley," Stanzi said, applauding. "I hope you seriously consider staying in the club."

"Sure," Ginny replied. "Why not?" She shook Stanzi's hand and then sat in the bleachers again.

Stanzi covered a few more things before the meeting was adjourned. After she finished up, most of the students went to the dormitories to get ready to sleep. Harry and Ron, however, planned on seeing how Hermione was doing in the Infirmary. After all, she could have awakened from that coma at any time, and they wanted to be there when she would wake up.

"It's hard for me to imagine how Quirrell could have been lucky enough to marry someone that cunning. Sure, Stanzi can be a flake every once in a while, but she's friendly and has a make-shift solution for virtually any problem. That's what I'd call an innovative mind…who else but Stanzi Talus-Quirrell would think of taping her wand to her hand so she wouldn't be rendered defenseless?"

"Hermione would think of something like that," Harry said, "but she wouldn't make sure _everyone_ knew about it." He held up a roll of duct tape. "However, I think this stuff could come in handy if I ran across Voldemort again."

Once reaching the Infirmary, Harry and Ron could hear Madame Pomfrey talking to Stanzi. "That was quite a show you put on for those students, Constanza. You wouldn't believe how many First Years came in here, asking if I'd heard about what you did on stage. After hearing about your lead feet and taped hand for almost fifty times, I told them to get lost. Honestly, it was your first day actually _on_ the job, and I think you're already one of the most popular adults here. You've won over their hearts so quickly."

"Winning hearts is one of my goals, Poppy," Stanzi said, "but the hard part is _keeping_ them won over. My true goal is not to just win over hearts, but to win over _souls_. I want to be influential to the youth of tomorrow, just so history won't repeat."

"You're beginning to sound like Mortimer, Severus, and Darius, my dear," Madame Pomfrey said, rolling her eyes. "It's as if you're all linked to the same train of thought sometimes."

"Fancy that," Stanzi said sarcastically. "Oh, Ron, Harry, how nice it is to see you outside of the auditorium yet again! Are you here to visit Hermione?" When both nodded, she sighed. "That poor girl; I owe her quite an enormous favor for helping my son and me come back to life." She looked at the two boys and added, "Of course, I owe you that same favor. You helped too!"

"How's family life going, Stanzi?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Are you still squabbling?"

"Most unfortunately, yes," Stanzi said, letting out a rather exasperated sigh. "Cecil thinks it's funny to watch us fight, but he's the only one. The last time, I about beat Juno—well, he'd transfigured into Juno at that time, in case you wanted to know why I called him that—to a pulp, and I'd have probably bashed her skull in if Hagrid hadn't stopped me. Don't get the wrong idea; I'm _not_ a violent person…there's just one person that irritates me more than any other, and that would be the loser that I married." She let out yet another irritable groan. "It's not my son's fault that he's got a weirdo for a father."

"That's a nice nose ring you've got in today," Ron said, pointing out Stanzi's new piece of jewelry. It looked like a dragon fang.

"Oh, you like it too?" she giggled before walking off. "You're the first person to compliment me on it all day, save for Alex."

"Who's Alex?" Ron asked Harry. "Would you know?"

"Of course I know who Alex is, but you should be the one that knows that tidbit of information, not me," Harry said, laughing. "Alex is none other than Furrier; his first name is Alexander. Didn't you know that?"

"For some odd reason, I thought it was _Skip_," Ron said, laughing. "Go figure, right?"

The two friends walked into the infirmary, hoping that Hermione had awakened from the coma. There was no such luck; she was still unconscious, in that dreamless sleep. Several others had fallen symptom to the same tragic fate, and only Hannah Abbot had risen from the ailment at the present time. "Is anyone else going to be out of here soon?" Ron asked Madame Pomfrey.

"Not that I know of, Weasley," Madame Pomfrey said curtly. "Abbot's still the one and only to get out of here from _that_ coma. If you want to continue visiting Granger, there's no problem with that, just don't ask me if she's doing any better every single day. If she's making any progress, I will let you know."

Ron and Harry didn't listen to the rest of Madame Pomfrey's lecture; instead, they went over to Hermione and watched over their unfortunate friend for nearly half an hour, wishing that she would wake up so they could have their beloved bookwork back amongst them. "Hermione, we need you more than anyone," Harry whispered. "Ron and I can't figure this out without you."

"Let me guess," said a child's voice. Harry and Ron jumped to see that Cecil Quirrell was right behind them, chewing on a chocolate bar. "You can't come to conclusions on your own, so you need Miss Granger to solve the solutions for you…is that it?"

"Leave us alone, Cecil," Harry said, sighing.

"Let me think about that," Cecil said, an impish smile appearing on his face. "I think I'll go bother Snape. I'll see you two chaps later." He hopped out of the infirmary and headed over toward the Dungeon.

"That child has some problems he needs to sort out," Ron said, groaning. He looked at Hermione again and noticed that she was moving. "Harry! Hermione's…" Ron couldn't say anything else; Hermione had floated out of the bed and was levitating nearly four feet above the blankets. "Look at her!" Harry watched in surprise and confusion…was his friend coming out of the coma? Hermione gasped for a moment, and then it happened; her eyes opened. "Hermione?"

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione shouted, looking at her friends with joy. "You have no idea how happy I am to see both of you!" She fell back into the bed with a muffled thud.

"We're glad to see you're better, too," Ron said, and gave his friend a hug. "Stanzi's at Hogwarts, sponsoring the Dueling Club, and she did a marvelous job only a couple of hours ago in the Fourth Floor Auditorium. Quirrell—Juno Lethe, to be more precise—is our Alchemy teacher at present, and Pyrites is on the verge of getting sacked by Dumbledore. We're all out for the holidays, and we made sure that the professors exempted you from the end-of-semester exams."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling. "You won't believe what I've been through."

"You were lying in that bed for quite some time," Ron said. "What could you have _possibly_ gone through but a coma?"

"It's not a coma, Ron," Hermione declared, "I could hear, smell, taste, and feel, but I couldn't see or move. I know that I got visitors—especially you two—about every day, and that Hannah's out of it." She then got an enormous grin on her face. "Mr. Stellian was in here earlier, and he was talking to Madame Pomfrey about seeing the gorgonix last night. The gorgonix Carrier is a fully-grown man with glasses and wavy hair slightly below his shoulders. Mr. Stellian was also kind enough to add the fact that this fellow was also wearing leather gloves." Her eyes narrowed mischievously and darted from Ron to Harry. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, you guys?"

"The Carrier must be Professor Skylarke," Ron said. "All the clues add up."

"It can't be," Harry muttered to himself. "That just _can't_ be right."

"Skylarke always wears leather gloves and glasses," Hermione said, "_and_ he does have wavy auburn hair down to his shoulder blades."

"But Ebonyste has long hair and glasses too," Harry pointed out.

"Trust me, Harry," Ron said, patting his friend on the back. "If the gorgonix Carrier was Professor Ebonyste, we'd know it. Mr. Phoebus would have mentioned that the Carrier had those dopey fairy ears and smelled like a cross between an incense burner and a chain of garlic."

"But Morty just _can't_ have the gorgonix—"

"Why not, Harry?" Hermione asked. "He disappears quite often and seems to fall asleep a lot during the day. Perhaps he's the Carrier and doesn't realize it, but Ron and I are pretty sure that Skylarke's the perpetrator." She then looked at Ron and Harry. "Something else is bothering you two…what is it?" Suddenly, she seemed to pick up on what was wrong. "Does it have anything to do with Viktor?" Ron and Harry remained silent. "Did something happen to him?"

"He died, okay?" Ron said. "The gorgonix got him while we were at the Yule Ball."

"I died, but not stayed dead," a voice said. The three friends turned around to see Krum, alive and well. "Damn creature choked me, but I okay. How about you, Herm-own-ninny? I wrote in letter I'd be coming, and here I am." A small mark that looked like the symbol for Pluto was on his right wrist, but besides that, he looked perfectly normal.

"What's that, Viktor?" asked Harry, pointing at the mark.

"That mark came from Necromancer," Krum said, "Darius Ahsimal."

"How many people has Ahsimal made sure to Resurrect as far as we know, Harry?" Ron asked, looking quite nervous. "He brought back Quirrell a few years ago—if we're to believe that git—Skylarke from that sudden-death moment back in November, a few students—only because the parents gave him permission to do so—and who-knows-how many others! Is he just corpse-happy, or does he have a purpose for all of this?"

"Ahsimal always has been fan of mine," Krum said. "I was Resurrected for free." A big grin was on his face as Hermione kissed his right cheek. "You lucky to have guy like Ahsimal. He's world's best Necromancer, you know."

"Yeah, we know," said Ron. "The faculty has to remind us of that every time we chastise him for wearing dresses."

"He wears dresses?" Krum asked. When Harry, Ron, _and_ Hermione nodded to indicate that _was_ the truth about Darius Cyrus Ahsimal, the Quidditch star began to guffaw rather loudly. "Nice guy, Ahsimal, but he slightly messed up in head."

"Yeah, that's true too," Ron said, sighing. "Hermione and I don't really like him that much."

"I like him _now_," Hermione said as Krum walked out, heading back to his home in Bulgaria. "I guess Ahsimal's not the monster I made him out to be after all." She beamed and said, "Harry, didn't Cassandra's mum say we were welcome at the Lair any time we were passing by in Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, she did," Harry said, "and she also mentioned that she wanted to be a good hostess for the next time we arrived to pay a visit. Why are you asking about that?"

"I need to do some Christmas shopping," Hermione said, "_and_ I'd like to get out of Hogwarts for a while. Harry, do you think that we could talk one of the professors into chaperoning for us?"

"I don't know about that, Hermione," Ron said. "Most of them looked ready to have a break from student communication—"

"We'll sneak off campus," Harry said, pulling the Marauder's Map out of his pocket.

_Hello everyone! To all of those who have reviewed, I thank you with all of my heart! I honestly do appreciate your input! To those of you who have read the story up to this point, thank you once again! Please review and let me know how you like or dislike the story. As always, all of the HP characters belong to JKR, and all songs from this point on were written by me. Thank you all for your support, and I'll see you again soon. Professor M. Skylarke_


	28. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Christmas Holidays in Hogsmeade

"Harry, you're a genius!" Ron shouted, laughing merrily at Harry's own cleverness. "We'll just use one of the secret passageways to make it to Hogsmeade, and then we'll see if Mrs. Von Dorian will let us stay at the Lair for a while. It beats paying for a room in The Wit's End or the Black Annis." Ron bit his lip and said, "I'm not even sure that I'd want to try the Annis…it's rather new, but it's already got a rather nasty reputation for being the place where Dark witches and Wizards hang out in Hogsmeade."

"Just in case Lydia doesn't welcome us to the Lair," Harry said, "the Black Annis is located downtown, instead of uptown like The Wit's End." Hermione and Ron followed Harry to Hogsmeade and then realized where they were. "By the way, this is the Honeydukes basement."

"How nice!" Ron said, beaming. "Harry, do you know if the candy is down here?"

"Why would that matter?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron suspiciously. "It's not like you're going to _steal_ anything down here…are you?"

"Just one little piece," Ron said, picking up a piece of every-flavor gum. "It's for Isis."

"That's _still_ wrong, Ron," Hermione preached. "You should use your _money _to purchase gifts, not steal them from innocent people!" Ron put the gum back and grumbled a bit. "Harry, do you know how to reach downtown Hogsmeade from here?"

"Of course I do," Harry said, leading his friends out of the store. It was very dark outside, and cloudy. Rain and snow was mixed together to make a lot of slushy mess. The pathway was rather hard to follow, since the slush was covering it up rather quickly. One way or another, however, Harry and his friends managed to make it to the dodgy part of town…downtown Hogsmeade. The slush had ended here, and had been replaced with powdery snow that made a pleasant crunch as it was stepped on.

St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery was rather beautiful with the rime covering the gates, sculptures, flora, and tributes to the dead. They could see Necromancers, dressed in black and other gloomy colors, going about the graveyard, mumbling something by the headstones. What they were doing was not mentioned in any textbook; this was a private ritual of the Von Dorian clan. Harry and Ron didn't know what it was, but Hermione knew quite a bit about the Von Dorian family, especially since she had picked up books about the family history when she decided to do a term paper on the most influential person in the Dark Arts for the Middle Ages. The name had been an easy one to find, Darius Ahsimal, but a fellow named Sargon Von Dorian had been mentioned as perhaps the most notorious Phobomancer in the history of magic.

Hermione was one of the few individuals that actually paid attention in History of Magic with Professor Binns instead of falling asleep. Therefore, she knew that Professor Binns had mentioned _eight_ Atticus Shadows; _nearly fifty_ people belonging to the Von Dorian family; and _two_ people whom bore the last name _Skylarke_, but neither had been _Mortimer_ Skylarke. She had all the notes in her bag, the notebook filled from bottom to top with useful facts and essays. "I'm not sure if Mrs. Von Dorian is going to be home or not," she said. "I think that's a family reunion going on in the cemetery."

"Oh?" Ron asked. "What are they doing?"

"Every twenty years, the members of the Von Dorian clan come together at St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery to Resurrect one of their own that had managed to get killed by a Slayer. The majority of the Von Dorians are vampiric, so it's become ritualistic to bring back anyone that had left no descendants and made an impression in history that was one of their own." Hermione groaned. "I'm guessing that they're bringing back Sargon Von Dorian since he gave his life to the welfare of vampires and helped start the Undead Rights."

"Wasn't that the name of Ahsimal's boyfriend?" Ron asked, looking rather disgusted.

"Yes," Harry said. "Sargon Von Dorian was Darius's lover."

"That's even _worse_," Ron said, "Ahsimal's disgusting."

"I think it's kind of cute having a person like our Necromancy teacher in love with another vampire," Hermione said, laughing. "I'll have to ask Professor Ahsimal if he'd mind showing me pictures of Sargon Von Dorian. I'm planning on writing my end-of-term paper for History of Magic on him, so I'm sure that Professor Ahsimal would be a wonderful source of information."

"Can we head over to the Lair now?" Harry asked. "I don't think that Lydia's relatives want us to be staring at them. What if we're caught snooping on their reunion? Cassandra mentioned that her mum's side of the family can be monstrous toward eavesdroppers."

"Well, who'd know better about the Von Dorians than Cassandra?" Ron said, letting out a heavy sigh. "Maybe we _should_ head over to the Lair, Hermione, just like Harry said." The three friends went across the street and headed directly over to the three-story home with the wrought-iron fence and dying garden, covered eerily in a thin blanket of snow. They went through Rhianna's secret entrance and knocked on the door.

After waiting on those cold front steps for nearly a minute, Teiresias opened the door. Faust was curled up on his left shoulder, and his glasses reflected the bright full moon. "Hello," he said curiously, and then held his black kitten in his arms. "Is there any specific reason as to why you three are out here, or were you just passing along and decided to stop by for a visit?"

"We thought we'd visit," Harry said, "I hope that's okay with you."

"I don't mind, really," Teiresias said, stroking his furry little friend in his gloved hands. "Just make sure you guys don't run into my dad. He hasn't been feeling well, especially because Mum divorced him and he's supposed to leave the Lair for good by midnight." A loud crash could be heard from a room in the back. "I think you could have guessed that the noise you just heard related to him. You're correct if you thought that."

"That's a cute cat you've got there," Hermione said, trying to talk cutesy to the boy. Teiresias didn't really appreciate it and scowled. "What's the little ball of fluff's name?"

"Faust," Teiresias said flatly. "I named him after a philosopher that sold his soul to the devil."

"How wonderful," Hermione said sarcastically as she followed Harry and Ron inside the Lair. "So, where's your mother, Teiresias?"

"Oh, I'm about to go get her," Teiresias said. "Could you stay in the lobby for a moment? I think she's practicing a Banishment Curse on the third floor." He looked at Harry and said, "Thanks for picking out a _nice_ cat; I'm sick of Cassandra's _stupid_ Pandora." He walked up the stairs. Faust—who was now on the ground—followed his master, hopping from stair-to-stair as quickly as his little kitten body could. Teiresias stopped on the second floor and bent down to pick up his friend. "Sorry, Faust; I didn't realize you were down there."

'_He sure loves that cat I got him for his birthday,_' Harry thought. Looking at Teiresias, Harry could tell that the boy was really enjoying that specific gift more than any of the others. Faust was a cute little cat and had begun to look just a bit like his master. He had the long black hair, and the inquisitive eyes that somewhat reminded Harry of Teiresias Snape.

"Wow!" Ron shouted, looking around at the lobby. "This place is even bigger than I remembered it being!" He sat down excitedly on a red velvet-covered chaise lounge and looked at the stained-glass rose garden window. "I wonder why Cassandra wouldn't want to live here."

"I know why," Lydia said, walking down the wrought-iron spiral staircase. She was wearing a red sports bra with a pair of black pajama bottoms. Her hair was pulled back into a wet ponytail. "I sent Cassandra to live with her uncle because I didn't want Claudius to hurt her. He's got a horrible hatred toward female vampires."

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione said, "he married _you_, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Lydia replied, "but he didn't find out that I was a vampire until _after_ we had Cassandra together." She groaned. "I filed for a divorce, you know." There was another loud sound coming from around the staircase, only it sounded a bit more like a 'thump' than a 'crash.' "Not again," Lydia groaned, rushing over toward the staircase. "Teiresias, dear, did Pandora trip you again?"

"I'm down here on the floor now," Teiresias snapped bitterly, "what do you think, Mum? Of _course_ that stupid cat made me lose my balance and kiss the floor. I hate that cat…"

"Well, the bandages are in the bathroom cabinets, in case you need them," Lydia said, walking off toward the bathroom. "Do you need me to look at the sore and make it feel better?"

"What are you proposing to do to it?" Teiresias asked, "kiss it?"

"Of course not!" Lydia replied, waving her hand around dismissively. "I could just numb it, you know." Teiresias didn't object to having his mother numb his battle wound from the most-recent Pandora incident. Lydia then faced Harry and company. "So…you decided to spend Christmas with us?"

"Is that alright?" Harry asked.

"Of course it's alright!" Lydia cheered. "I'm sending Claudius away tonight, as you probably already know, so the house is welcome to everyone that wishes to visit." She looked around for a moment, and said, "Ah! I know! I think I'll go pull out the red wine. We already had dinner, but it wouldn't be too much trouble to heat up something for you three."

"Don't worry about us, Mrs. Snape," said Ron.

"I'm now Ms. Von Dorian," Lydia said, "but I'm begging you…call me Lydia."

"Okay, Lydia," Ron said, looking at the woman carefully. "Were you exercising up there?"

"Yes," Lydia said, "is there any reason why you'd want to know?"

"Oh, not really," Ron replied, "except Teiresias told me that you were practicing a Banishment Curse."

"I was doing that _earlier_," Lydia said, "and then I mastered it. After I master a Curse, I hardly ever bother with it until I go to the Dueling Arena uptown. There's a nice building up there—it looks like an old train station—and people all over Hogsmeade come over there to hold Duels. It's great, because all the rules are enforced, but people always find one way or another to cheat." She groaned and said, "A younger friend of mine was infamous for finding loopholes in the rulebook. I think she's in charge of the Dueling Club up at Hogwarts now…Constanza Talus?"

"Yeah, Stanzi's the head of our Dueling Club," Harry informed Lydia. "So…what exactly did you and Teiresias have for dinner?"

Lydia smiled as she said, "Oh, we had Cassandra's favorite meal; Caesar salad."

Ron didn't look too thrilled by that news. "Did you make it?"

"No," Lydia said, "Scrappy did." She went into the kitchen and offered a bowl of salad to Ron, Harry, and Hermione. She lit a few candles up on the table, and gave each one of the students a small glass of red wine. "Please, enjoy yourselves. I don't have company very often anymore, so I enjoy having people over as often as possible." She looked at Hermione and said, "I read about you in the Daily Prophet about a month ago. Weren't you one of the students that fell into that Minotaurian Coma?"

"Yes, Lydia," Hermione said timidly, eating a bite of the salad. She couldn't help but look around the house over and over again. Harry found himself doing the same thing. It was far from being a mansion, but it was still a rather large house. Three people could probably live in there and never have to see one another. "I was wondering about Cassandra. Do you know if she's alright?"

"Of course she's not," Lydia said, "she's still in Azkaban, isn't she? Teiresias and I are trying to get people to sign a pardon for her, and I noticed that Harry started the SOS campaign over at Hogwarts. I was so glad to see how many people want my daughter out of that horrible place." She began to chew on a piece of celery with her pearly white teeth. "Now, if only I could get this parchment over to the Minister of Magic—"

"Leave it to me, Lydia!" Ron said, smiling. "My dad works for the Ministry of Magic, and I'm sure he could send it to Cornelius Fudge." Lydia hugged Ron rather suddenly, but Ron really didn't seem to mind being embraced by someone as eerily pretty as Lydia Von Dorian.

Lydia was happy the whole time she was serving dinner, and then looked a bit dismal for a moment. "Oh dear…I just thought of something. I only have two guest bedrooms."

"That's alright," Harry said. "I'll just sleep on the couch in your library or something."

"Thanks for being so understanding about all of this," Lydia said, sighing. "I'll get you an extra blanket and a couple of pillows for when you begin to get tired."

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Hermione managed to do her last-minute shopping for Christmas, and when the time came for the holidays, the three friends were still lodging with Lydia, Pandora, Faust, and Teiresias in the Lair. After a couple of days, the house didn't seem quite as intimidating; the floor-plan was an easy one to follow, and most of the rooms didn't look like something from the Addams Family television show. Teiresias had made sure that his sister's friends had a great time hanging around, and made sure to leave them alone for the majority of the time. He'd just sit in the library, constantly looking over curses, spells, and ways to conjure up the dead.

It didn't take Hermione too long to realize that Teiresias wasn't one of those cute and cuddly little boys. She thought he was cute when she first saw him, but she realized he behaved much more maturely than he looked. He could talk about History of Magic on the same level as a Third Year, Defense Against the Dark Arts on the same level as a Fourth Year, Curses & Rootwork on the same level as a Fifth Year, and Potions on the same level as a post-graduate. His résumé was quite impressive, but Harry realized that the only way Teiresias was so good at all of this was because he had people that expected him to be the best…he was being pushed way too hard to be something more than even he wanted to be. Teiresias was a prodigy, but only because his mother constantly pushed him to strive for nothing less than more than what he was capable of doing. After seeing how glum some of Teiresias's studies made the boy, Harry wondered if Cassandra had gone through something similar.

Lydia continued to feed her guests well, and was by far one of the best hostesses Harry could ever recall having. She was sensitive, interactive, good-spirited, and well-mannered. She insisted that her guests listen to the house elves sing Christmas carols and encouraged everyone to sing along happily. She was a rather nice singer, but she kept cutting herself off, thinking she didn't sound very nice. While Hermione ended up looking at books and magazines with Teiresias, Ron and Harry found themselves watching Lydia do her morning aerobic exercises.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Lydia seemed a bit excited. "I hope nobody minds that I invited a few of _my_ closest friends over for the evening and tomorrow morning." She opened the doors, and in came Morty, Darius, Aurelius, and Mr. Fenrir. Snape wasn't there, but Harry had a strong feeling that he was outside, talking to Teiresias. Being inquisitive, he looked out the window to see if he was correct…and he was. Looking at the little boy, sitting there talking to the Potions Master, Harry could _really_ see the resemblance between the two. It was unnerving, but somehow not a surprise.

"Well, Merry Christmas, everyone!" Morty shouted. "How's everything been lately?"

"Oh, just fine," Harry said. "Lydia was nice enough to let us stay here for the time being." He looked at Aurelius and noticed that the man was walking out of the Lair and into the street. "Hold on, Aurelius! What are you doing?"

"I've had my name cleared," Aurelius said merrily. "Isn't it great? I even got a sum of money from the Ministry of Magic for apologies. This is a very Merry Christmas indeed!"

"I can believe it," Ron said, looking at Aurelius curiously. He then made sure to hand Harry a card. "Here, Harry; I think this one is from Teiresias."

Teiresias looked up from outside and peered through the window. "I heard my name. What has been said? Somebody needs to tell me." He looked a bit annoyed with everyone for talking about him while he wasn't there, but curious nonetheless.

"All I said was that this present was from you, honest," said Ron. "There's no need to pitch a fit or anything, little guy."

Teiresias rolled his eyes and stomped off after being called a "little guy." Apparently, he didn't enjoy the joke. He picked up Faust and stomped up to his room. "I think I'll open my presents later."

Harry looked to see what type of card Teiresias had given him. As he opened the envelope, he could see a black card with thin, pale green stripes on it. Etched on the top was '**Nezura's Curiosity**' and there was the Occasion Alley address. It was a gift card worth ten Galleons, a rather nice present. Had the ten-year-old still been in the room, Harry would have thanked him. However, Teiresias was upstairs and probably refused to come down. Faust was still on the first floor with everyone else, so Harry got an epiphany. He wrote Teiresias a note and tied it around the kitten's leg. "Okay, Faust; go back to Teiresias and tell him that I enjoyed my present." Faust nuzzled against Harry's shoulder for a minute, and then began to jump from step-to-step until he made it to the second floor.

"Cute cat," Aurelius said, taking a sip of eggnog. "It's kind of hard to view this as Christmas 1996…it's just so difficult for me to accept the fact that I've become old."

"Watch it," Darius said with a mock-warning tone in his voice. He then let out a rather girlish laugh and said, "Okay, I'm ready to open something. Please, someone; hand me a present to rip open with my newly-manicured fingernails!"

"Darius, you need to calm down," Snape said in a monotone voice. "You'll open something eventually and your impatience will only make matters worse."

Darius was ecstatic as Hermione handed him a gift. "Is this from you?" he asked. When she nodded to indicate that it _was_ from her, Darius gave Hermione a friendly hug. "You're so sweet, and here I was thinking you thought I was some sort of freak and didn't like me!"

"Fancy that," added Snape. He was looking up at the staircase. "Is there any chance that your son will be joining us again, Lydia?"

"I'm not sure," Lydia said, shrugging her shoulders. "He's just been sort of moody lately. I know that he'll grow out of that stage in time, but it's about to drive me berserk." She looked around at everyone and said, "I know, I said I don't cook, but I lied. I tried making Christmas cookies, and I was wondering if any of you are brave enough to try one." Aurelius raised his hand eagerly and took a bite of the cookie. After he admitted that he found it tasty, Lydia looked rather cheery. "See? I guess I'm not that bad. Morty, I'm begging you, please try one."

Morty took a bite of one and made a funny face. "It's not that much of an accomplishment to hear Aurelius tell you it was good food. Next to what they serve in Azkaban, even Hagrid's treacle fudge looks like something made in Heaven." Darius and Aurelius laughed along a bit, and even Snape made a motion to laugh just a little until he realized that Harry was watching. "Don't get me wrong; I like Hagrid, but I just don't think he's a good cook."

"I remember when _you_ tried cooking, Morty," Darius teased. "You were horrible too, so you have no room to talk about _Lydia_ being a bad cook."

"Thank you, Darius," Lydia said, folding her arms and sitting next to Mr. Fenrir.

"However, _I_ have room to complain," Darius added. "I've been cooking for millennia, and I probably know how to fix more recipes than any other man or woman alive. Each and every one of you—except you three students—has tasted my stuff." He stood proudly and said, "Admit it; all of you know for a fact that I'm quite a chef."

"Well, yes, but still…" Morty said. "I also recall you telling us that Sargon wouldn't eat anything _but_ your cooking. It's not good to have it where people hate your food, but it's also not good to have it where people become _addicted_ to your food." Darius looked around the room and then opened his present from Hermione. "Okay, Darius; what did Hermione get you?"

"Oh my stars," Darius said, squealing with delight. He made such a show of opening his present that he had reminded Harry of a vulture tearing up an animal carcass "My dear Granger, you are such a doll!" He hugged Hermione again and said, "How did you know that I love chocolate?" Harry looked down to see Hermione had bought a box of chocolates for Darius. "Well, Merry Christmas to you too!" He handed Hermione a small box, which she opened to discover a box of Mood Drops. "Mrs. Lorelei Siren informed me that you liked these, so I made sure to get these for you, Weasley, and Harry—"

Mr. Fenrir covered up Darius's mouth with one of his large, sinewy hands. "You're not supposed to tell people what you got them. As ancient as you are, my friend, I'd have thought you'd know that by now." Darius nodded, and sat back down, engulfed with his chocolates. Mr. Fenrir turned toward Snape and said, "After hearing about certain events, Severus, I thought that this might come in handy." He handed over a present wrapped in black paper with Slytherin ribbons.

Snape pulled back the ribbon and then snapped off the tape in the corners, instead of making a mess like Darius had done. There was a rectangle of black paper and a tidy ribbon in the corner, and in Snape's lap was a book bound in green leather. "Is this the one that I requested?" he asked.

"Yes," Mr. Fenrir said, a smirk on his wily face. "That's the one that had the instructions on how to stop a doppelganger. You asked about it, so it was rather easy to have it preordered for a good friend." Snape didn't say much, but he did give Mr. Fenrir a look that was about as friendly as he could possibly make. Mr. Fenrir then handed Morty a present. "This one's for you, from Aurelius."

"Oh no," Morty said teasingly. "I wonder what kind of booby trap he gave me this time!" He managed to somehow get the paper off in one swift move. "Oh, Aurelius? How did you know that I needed another voodoo kit for my class?"

"How could I _not_ know?" Aurelius asked, laughing. "You'd been mentioning that you were low on voodoo ingredients for nearly a month. I just got some of my hush money from the Ministry, and decided to spend a bit on your voodoo stuff."

"Morty, here's another one for you, from me!" Lydia said, smiling cheerily.

"Whatever could it be?" Morty asked, opening the box to uncover a leather jacket identical to the brown one he wore everywhere, only this one was black. "Thanks, Lydia."

"You were about to wear your other one out, so I thought this was a good idea," said Lydia.

"Aurelius, this one is from all of us," Snape said, handing a black box over to Aurelius.

"Is it going to bite me when I open it?" Aurelius jeered jokingly as he removed the ribbon. "This really is something I needed to get!" He held up his new gift so Harry and the others could see what everybody had gotten him…a new wand. "Now I can cause all sorts of damage!" He rushed out of the room, looking very happy with himself for regaining his wand-magical powers.

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The rest of the Christmas presents went along those same lines, and then everyone was asked to report to the dining room for lunch. "Everyone, I'd like to inform you that I roasted this delicious bird all by myself," Lydia said, looking quite pleased with herself over the turkey.

"We're all just so proud," Snape said sarcastically. Suddenly, the doorbell rang again. Snape reluctantly got up to see who was there. "Lydia, no! Please tell me you didn't invite those weirdoes over here!"

"Who is it?" Teiresias asked, Faust still on his lap.

"It's the Quirrells," Snape said, sounding very disgusted. He opened the door and said, "Go home; we don't want you here."

"But Lydia invited—"

"Talus, I don't want to hear it," Snape snarled. "I'm warning you. Go home." He pulled out his wand to make his point. "I'm not joking with you people; I want you off Von Dorian territory."

Stanzi pulled out her wand as well. "We were invited over here, and we're welcome here just as much as you are!" She grabbed "Juno" by the wrist and dragged her in.

Cecil just merrily tagged along behind them, wearing a red Father Christmas hat. He took one look at the festive lingerie that Lydia was wearing and said, "I've got three words for you, Ms. Von Dorian. Ho…ho…ho."

Lydia wasn't very thrilled by that comment, so she decided to change into a formal dress. She looked pristine and orderly, and very much appealing. "I can see one reason why Cassandra wouldn't want to stay in this house," Hermione said, "perhaps her mother intimidated her."

"Yeah, I can see that," Ron said, "she was never as sexy as her mum, so maybe that spawned a bit of jealousy between mother and daughter. If Cassandra had looked more like a Von Dorian than a Snape, I'm sure that more than half the guys at school would have been after her." He sighed and added, "that poor girl. She got all the bad traits."

Teiresias went up to Cecil and said, "Look; what you said to my mum wasn't very nice."

Cecil sneered, "It wasn't nice, but it was true. Your mum looks like a hooker." Teiresias lunged at Cecil angrily, trying to defend his mother's good reputation as a great member of the Hogsmeade community. At the last moment, Cecil dodged Teiresias's attack, making the poor boy run face-first into the wall. "Sheesh…you're clumsy."

Snape turned toward Lethe. "You and Talus both need to discipline that brat of yours."

"It's not Cecil's fault that he's superior to Teiresias," Juno sneered. "Your nephew just doesn't seem very coordinated. Smart, maybe, but I think he's going to lack in everything else." She pulled out her wand and said, "Okay, Severus; want to Duel me?"

"I'd be glad to ruin that calm face you're wearing," Snape said, getting ready.

"Hold on!" Lydia shouted. "We're going to eat first! Besides, I've got a spot cleared in the garden for Dueling; the house was just cleaned by Mopsy earlier this week. I don't want it ruined!" She sat down at the head of the table and groaned. "You better not ruin my Christmas."

"We weren't going to," Darius said, beginning to take a bit of the shrimp cocktail. Aurelius and Mr. Fenrir had begun fixing plates, but it looked as if Morty and the others were waiting for Lethe and Snape to sit down to start eating. "Lydia, did you make the cranberry sauce too?"

"Yes," Lydia said, smiling. "I looked up the recipe in **Magical Chef Magazine**."

"That's a big turkey," Morty declared, pointing to the gargantuan roasted bird. "You'll be eating turkey leftovers for over a month!"

"No, I won't," Lydia said, smiling. "Teiresias and the cats will be eating the turkey. I'll be able to treat myself to a T-bone steak soon, since I'm visiting my cousin Esmeralda in New York City for the New Year's Celebration."

"I'm not going, Mum?" Teiresias asked, sounding a bit worried. Cecil laughed at him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Lydia said, "but I think you'd be better off at home than in New York. Aurelius will be staying over here to keep an eye on you."

"Oh, that's brilliant," Cecil said mockingly. "You're leaving your son with an ex-convict."

"I just so happen to trust Aurelius," Lydia said icily to the boy. "He was innocent anyway."

Everyone began eating the food that Lydia had prepared with the house elves. Hermione only ate the stuff Lydia had admitted to fixing by herself. Ron ate almost everything and found it all good. Harry soon became addicted to the cranberry sauce, but—unfortunately for him—so did Darius. Cecil and Teiresias would not stop insulting each other at the table until Lydia ordered them to eat with the house elves. Even then, everyone could still hear the two boys shouting angrily at one another. "That sounds a bit familiar," Ron said, elbowing Harry.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Harry asked.

"You don't get it, do you?" asked Ron. "Those two sound like you and Malfoy."

"Poor Teiresias," Harry said. "I actually like him."

"I feel more sorry for Cecil," Hermione said, "that poor boy's been through so much."

"And you think Teiresias hasn't?" Ron snapped back. "His sister just got thrown in prison."

"And Cecil has been dead for quite some time," Hermione snarled in reply.

Ron and Hermione began to argue about which child was the more pitiful, so Harry made conversation with Morty instead. The lunch seemed to take forever-and-a-day to end, but it eventually did. "So…" Harry said to Ron and Hermione. "Are we heading back to Hogwarts, or are we spending the New Year's Celebration in Hogsmeade as well?"

"You can stay if you want to, Harry," Hermione said, "but I think Ron and I are going to return to Hogwarts."

"We'll just tell anyone that asks that you're spending Christmas with Ahsimal," added Ron.

"No!" Harry said. "Don't do that!" Darius, Aurelius, Mr. Fenrir, and Morty were all laughing. "People will think I'm his new boyfriend, or something along those lines!"

"Okay, then we'll say you spent it with Skylarke," Hermione suggested. "Professor Skylarke, is that alright with you?"

"Oh, that would be fine," Morty said, looking at the voodoo kit Aurelius had gotten him.

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And so it was set…Ron and Hermione returned to Hogwarts to spend the rest of the winter break, but Harry had wanted to stay in Hogsmeade a bit longer. "Lydia, is there any chance I could stay in the Lair for a while?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lydia said politely, "but my cousin Leonard has already booked an airplane ticket for me so I can meet up with Esmeralda for New Year's. All the Von Dorians that are eighteen and older are heading over to New York City! Isn't that nice?"

"Er…yeah," Harry said, disappointed. "So where am I supposed to stay in Hogsmeade?"

"I'm sure one of my friends would be more than glad to take you in until the day before school gets back in session," Lydia offered. "Morty doesn't have a home in Hogsmeade—I think he lives somewhere around Greenwich—and neither does Lycaon or Darius. Aurelius doesn't have a home, period, and I'm pretty sure my ex-brother-in-law is on bad terms with you."

"He is," Harry said. "We've been on bad terms since before I was born."

"It's not your fault that your father was on bad terms with Severus," Lydia said, giving Harry a hug. "I'll always be there for you, just in case you need me."

"Why?" Harry asked. "We don't have any ties in any way."

"I was one of your mother's best friends in my school days," Lydia replied seriously, "and also, you're one of the few people Cassandra actually respects. She never respected her father, but she really admires you and each time I go visit her in Azkaban, she asks about you, Ron, Hermione, and a couple of other people."

"So you're offering to be a semi-motherly figure?" Harry asked, a bit confused.

Lydia pulled out her camera and took a picture of Harry. "That is, if you want me to. If not, I'll just be an older lady-friend you can talk to if you ever have any trouble with the opposite gender. Who'd know more about flirtatious females than me? I used to model lingerie at one point, you know."

"No," Harry said, "I didn't know that."

"It was Lily's idea," Lydia said. "She used to do my makeup when we were at Hogwarts, and suggested that I might take up modeling as a career. Honestly, Harry, your mother was such a wonderful person. I could always feel a lot better after talking to her." She patted Harry on the shoulder and said, "In all truth, I just wish my son could have been more like you. He seems to have a grudge with about everything that lives, or so it appears in this house. At one time, he used to confide in me. Now he only seems interested in writing Cassandra and his couple of pen pals in Salem, and talking to his uncle Severus or Faust. You really did him a favor, getting him the cat."

"Well, I wish you a happy New Year in New York City, Lydia," Harry said. "Have a fun time, okay?"

"Oh, you know I will!" Lydia said, hopping on a broomstick. "Well, ciao for now, Harry!"

"Where am I supposed to go? You kicked me out of the Lair for the time being!"

"Lycaon's sister runs the Black Annis. I'm sure that Celeste Fenrir will find a room for you." Lydia waved, and continued to do so until she appeared to be nothing more than a black speck in the sky. But, in time, even the black speck managed to vanish into nothingness.

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_**Hi everyone, it's Professor Skylarke. I wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I really do appreciate every review I get. I still don't quite understand why I don't have more reviews, but I guess I'll keep hoping! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Oh, and don't worry, Cassandra is going to come back...it's coming. Thank you again and don't forget to send me a review!**_

_**Yours, Professor Skylarke**_


	29. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

The Black Annis

Harry grabbed his suitcase from the Lair and walked further downtown. Teiresias had made sure that he had something to eat on the way down there. "Be careful, Harry. If you think that the Von Dorian Territory in town is dodgy, you should get a load of where the Black Annis is located. There's a whole collection of Dark Arts stores in that area—it's called the Dark Magic Circle—and each one sells a lot of rare stuff that can only be found legally in Hogsmeade. The Black Annis is located right at the end of the street, right next to where the woods begin. It's an annex to the Forbidden Forest, and there's this one little trail back there known as the Trail of the Dead. People that go in there should watch their backs. This past month, there's already been several cases of travelers going back there and never returning."

"Thanks for the warning, Teiresias," Harry said. "Is there any particular reason why you're following me down here?"

"Yeah, there's only one reason," Teiresias said. "I wanted to say hello to Miss Celeste. She's a good friend of my mum's, and makes the best virgin daiquiris I've ever tasted." The Sixth Year and the ten-year-old looked ahead; it was a road that was covered in a thin blanket of snow. Trees loomed over it, dead and covered in the snowy matrix. Long lifeless branches dangled and swayed in their way, and pairs of glowing eyes glared back at them angrily. "Er…I think I'm going home now," Teiresias said. "Just tell Miss Celeste that I asked about her, okay?"

Unlike Teiresias, Harry continued onward and found his way to the row with all the Dark Arts stores. It was difficult to tell which building was the Black Annis; all of them looked dilapidated and unwelcoming. Every single one was built with fading red bricks and had small turrets and balconies popping out of the most unusual places. Together, the entire complex looked surreal, too eerie to be welcome anywhere else but the worst nightmares. Stained glass windows with detailed images depicted what each store sold.

There was one rather small store that Harry decided to enter; the name was '**Morgan Leafaix, Tour de Nocturne.**' The windows in there were all mirrored, so he couldn't see what was inside, but once he got in, he was rather amazed to see what all this mysterious place had to offer. Necromancy materials were plentiful, and so were several other Dark Arts products that someone practicing black magic would need. "Looking for something, sir?" asked a sinewy old store clerk.

"I'm just browsing," Harry said politely, and continued to look. "What does this do?" It looked like a shrunken hand of some sort, pickled in saltpeter for who-knew-how long.

"That's just an amulet to keep Class Two Demons away," said the store clerk, who didn't even look at Harry. "You probably want something more aimed toward the gorgonix, right?"

"How would you know?" asked Harry. The clerk simply smiled and disappeared to the back of the store. "Never mind…I wasn't considering buying that anyway." He put the hand back where it was earlier and continued to look around for a while. Maps of magical cities, books about sphinxes and other creatures, floating balls of yellow crystal, dried herbs, mummified parts of animals and humans, and several other items helped contribute to the store's miscellany.

"Looking for somezing, 'Arry?" a voice asked.

Harry turned around and almost screamed; it was Snitchgrass. "You're in Hogsmeade?"

"Ya," Snitchgrass said in her horrendously accented tongue. "I vent 'ere vor za Tour de Nocturne. Morgan Leafaix is a friend ov mine, zo I can take za tour ven I vant to, anytime. Since I am on break a' present, I thought zat tonight vould be nice, seeing as it is New Year's Eve."

She smiled, but Harry knew it was more like a hungry carnivorous smile than a friendly one. "Vat a surprise to see you in zis part ov za town, 'Arry. Downtown Hogsmeade is vere all the Dark Magicians go."

"If that's true, then why are you here?" asked Harry. "You mentioned to Dumbledore a long time ago that you were never a Dark witch."

"I'm not one ov zose Dark Vitches," Snitchgrass said coyly. "I came down here to visit vith an old friend of mine. Cain and Adonis came along." She pointed to the far right corner of the store, and—sure enough—Harry could see Cyanis looking at a painting and Ebonyste flirting with a pretty woman dressed all in blue. "Zat lady o'er zere is Portia Cyanis, Cain's beloved vife." She then looked at her watch and said, "I vonder ven Morgan herself vill come out ov 'er office to begin za nightly tour. 'Arry, are you going?"

"No," Harry said, sighing. "I'm just browsing." He couldn't stop looking at Portia Cyanis; she was a very beautiful woman, and looked as if she was still in her early twenties, at the most. There was no earthly way that someone that breathtakingly gorgeous would have married a man like the mangled Hypnosis professor…or so it would have seemed until Harry saw Portia kiss Cyanis on the lips. On her left ring finger was the wedding band; she was indeed Mrs. Cyanis. "When did she marry Professor Cyanis?"

"Nearly thirty years ago," Snitchgrass said, rolling her eyes. "Zey got married a veek after zey graduated from Hogwarts. School sweethearts, zose two. As far as I can recall abou' zem, zey 'ave been together."

"Was she friends with Claire Lewn?" Harry asked, curious. "She looks as if she's got perpetual care from the Fountain of Youth."

"No, she vas not friends vith Claire, but she vas a good friend to Varinia Loxias," Snitchgrass said, sighing. "'Er beauty 'as remained za same, not because ov vater obtained from a fountain, but because she is a lamia. She is one ov the few remaining."

"But Cyanis is a Slayer, isn't he?" asked Harry.

"Yes, I am," Cyanis said, approaching Harry. He had his arms wrapped protectively around his wife's slender waist. "I did make an exception for my wife, though. Claire was a Slayer, but a lamia as well. My dear Portia has promised me that she has quit her wicked ways."

"Cain, for crying out loud, your wife is afraid of you! Poor Portia would say anything to shut you up," Ebonyste said, patting Cyanis on the shoulder playfully. He then pinched Harry's cheek and shook that gripped hand around a bit. "Why, hello there, little guy! What are you doing out of Hogwarts for the holidays?" Harry was very embarrassed.

"I should be asking you za same zing, Adonis K. Ebonyste!" Snitchgrass said angrily, folding her arms and tapping her left foot. "You vere supposed to be vatching o'er zose little Ravenclaws, remember?" Ebonyste began to stammer and argue with Snitchgrass, but Harry found it too noisy for his own liking. He didn't want to be anywhere near Cyanis, either, so he backed up. His cheek was still a bit red from where Ebonyste had grabbed it like an enthusiastic grandmother.

As he backed up, he accidentally bumped directly into a short, waif-like woman with ice blue eyes and curly mahogany hair. "I'm sorry," Harry said, apologizing to the woman.

"That's quite alright, young man," she said in a rather suave alto voice. Harry could get a better look at her once she could be seen in the candlelight; she was rather tan, looked about forty years old, and was wearing a red blazer with a tight black dress. She was also wearing a black fedora hat with a red ribbon. After staring for a while, Harry noticed that the woman had outstretched her right hand. "I'm Morgan Leafaix, owner of this store, and founder of the Tour de Nocturne. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Ms. Leafaix," Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Are you here for the tour?" asked Leafaix. She sounded quite anxious, and a bit manly.

"How much does it cost to go on the tour?"

"Four Sickles," Leafaix said calmly. She then turned to Snitchgrass, Mr. and Mrs. Cyanis, and Ebonyste. "Are you all ready to go?"

"Ya," Snitchgrass said cheerily. "I 'ave vanted to go on zis tour vor za longest time, but I've never 'ad za time to do so." She shrugged her shoulders, and Harry could have sworn he heard all her joints squeaking in pain.

"Then again, I think I should go someplace else," announced Harry.

"Oh?" Leafaix sounded a bit hostile and offended with that simple word. "Why's that?"

"I've got to meet someone uptown," Harry lied.

"Oh," Leafaix now sounded simply disappointed that she couldn't get four Sickles from a celebrity. "Could I at least take a picture of you?"

"Sure," Harry said, not really caring. A bright light hit him directly in the face, and he was a bit dizzy after that. "That was quite a bright flash…"

"Yeah," Leafaix said. "This one's a Muggle camera. I stole it from my brother-in-law."

"Your brother-in-law is a Muggle?" asked Mrs. Cyanis.

"Yes, and the worst kind imaginable, Portia," said Leafaix. "He made sure that my dear sister gave up all magic so she could stay with him. Bloody millionaire…" Mrs. Cyanis giggled a bit until Cyanis cuffed her shoulder.

After that, Harry made his exit from **Morgan Leafaix's Tour de Nocturne** and decided to try to find the Black Annis. He had a rather strong feeling that it was on this particular street, and affirmative that it was at least in this part of downtown Hogsmeade…far downtown. He then saw a middle-aged man with prematurely gray hair walking down the streets. Suddenly, Harry realized who it was, and it made him feel absolutely wonderful to see his friend alive again. "Professor Lupin?" There was a short silence, and then a staring between Harry and Lupin.

Suddenly, Lupin walked up to him and said, "I was wondering when you were going to find me. It's great to see you again, Harry."

"I thought you died," said Harry.

"I did," Lupin replied, "but a former girlfriend of mine made sure that Darius Ahsimal was the one to have me Resurrected entirely."

"Well, that was very nice of her," Harry said, embracing his friend. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Celeste Fenrir, and she owns the Black Annis," Lupin answered. "She's a very friendly woman and could understand what all I was going through, but so could her brother. It's a pity that Lycaon and I never really got along."

"That's strange," Harry said, but when he noticed Lupin's slightly hurt expression, he added, "No, not in that way! I meant that it's strange that you know Celeste Fenrir. I'm trying to find the Black Annis right now."

"I'll take you," Lupin said, smiling, "and I'll be sure to introduce you to Celeste."

Lupin and Harry continued to walk past a few more stores, until a building that looked like a small orange-red brick castle with emerald green windows appeared at the dead end of the street. A wooden black sign dangled from a spiral piece of wrought iron. On it were the words 'The Black Annis' and a picture had been painted of the hag the tavern had gotten the name from.

"Well, this has been where I've been staying ever since Darius returned me to life," said Lupin. "Celeste always knew I didn't have that much money, so she has courteously given me free room and board until I can find a better place to go." With that, Lupin opened the cedar-wood door and went inside. "Hello? Celeste?"

"Yes?" asked a slightly-muscular woman. She was rather attractive for someone her age, but she also looked like the kind that could easily take care of herself, like an Amazon. To Harry she looked a bit like a ginger cat, or at least a long-haired tomboy. Miss Celeste Fenrir was wearing a pair of blue jeans with a slightly tight green-and-white-striped sweater, and her red hair was pulled back into a large, long braid. "Oh, welcome back, Remus." She gave him a tomboyish smile and added, "Let me guess; you want to know what tonight's special is?"

"I would love to know that," Remus said, "but I was wondering if another room was open."

"Of course there's room!" Celeste said, laughing. "How many times have I told you that the Black Annis will never run out of rooms? I got Dumbledore to enchant the building for me, so I'll always be able to have enough space for anyone who wants my service."

"I just found a friend of mine walking down the street, wondering where your tavern was. So, naturally, I made sure he got here without having to deal with Morgan Leafaix."

"That horrid woman," Celeste grumbled. "I really don't like her." She looked around and asked, "So, Remus, who's the friend?" She then gasped and came to a conclusion. "Did Darius bring Sirius back, perhaps?"

"Not that I know of," Remus said. "Harry was wondering if he could have a room."

Celeste made eye contact with Harry and waved. "Well, of course he can have a room. I'm just a bit curious though…will Mr. Potter be paying for a room or will he need a freebie?"

"I'm willing to pay," Harry said. "How much?"

Celeste began to laugh a little bit and then said, "No, Harry; I couldn't take lodging money from you. I don't charge Hogwarts students for lodging, but I do charge them for meals. It's my policy, and then the Wit's End started to copy it so more people would go there. After all, thanks to Stewart Shady, my place has a bad reputation."

"I've stayed in the Wit's End before," Harry said. "This place has a lot more character."

"You think so, eh?" Celeste asked. "Wait until you take a look at your room." She sighed and said, "Well, how many days will you be staying here?"

"Two or three," Harry said. "Today is New Year's Eve, right?"

"Er, yeah, it is," Celeste said, laughing. "I'm having my New Year's Celebration in the pub. Since you're a Sixth Year, I think you'll be mature enough to join in. I know how much it would bother you if I said you were too young, because—in my opinion—I think you're old enough. You're sixteen, right?"

"Yes."

"That means you're one year away from being considered an adult in the Wizarding World," Celeste said, smiling. "So, how about it, Harry? Would you enjoy being part of a party I throw for friends and customers?"

"I'd like that," Harry said, and then turned to Lupin. He whispered, "How is the food here?"

"It's rather good," Lupin whispered back. "I have tasted a couple of dishes better than what the Black Annis serves, but the food is still quite nice to eat." He then got a bit louder and asked Celeste, "So, what is the New Year's Eve special?"

"I am actually fixing the specialty of the house," Celeste said, beaming. "My pheasant cannot be beat!"

"You're serving roast pheasant tonight?" Remus asked.

"Of course!" Celeste said. "I went hunting this morning so I'd have a few extras."

"She sure seems to be a tough person," Harry whispered to Lupin.

"Oh, she is," Lupin agreed. "She is obsessed with staying healthy, and makes sure to exercise and lift weights every day of the week."

"Is there any particular reason why?" asked Harry.

"Actually, there is," Lupin answered. "There used to be a tavern around Zonko's Joke Shop, and a single woman had opened it. The customers attacked her, and seeing as she had nobody to help her, the tavern was shut down after the landlady was harassed. Celeste is single, but she does not want help from her brother, Lycaon. You know Lycaon Fenrir, right?"

"I've met him once," Harry said. "He'll be teaching Phobomancy at Hogwarts this coming semester. Also, I heard he owns the Nightly Oracle."

"Oh, he does," Lupin said, "but he tends to be a bit violent toward anyone that threatens his sister. Well, back to _Celeste_ Fenrir, she really doesn't want help from Lycaon because she thrives on independence. Therefore, she stays in top condition and keeps strengthening herself so she can also serve as a bouncer when certain guests become rowdy. She wants to defend herself, and also be able to stand up alone."

"So, do the two of you want the pheasant or not?" Celeste asked, tapping her foot.

"We'll have it, thanks," Harry said politely. "Well, how have you been doing, Professor, ever since Darius brought you back?"

"I've been doing alright," Lupin answered. "Harry, I'm no longer a professor at Hogwarts, and I'm hopefully your friend. You called Sirius by his first name, so why not me?"

"I…" as soon as he thought about it, Harry really couldn't figure out why he had kept calling Remus "Professor Lupin" even after resignation. "I really don't know. Habit, perhaps, was the cause of that."

"Well, that makes sense," Remus said, sighing as Celeste presented the pheasant with a fresh spinach salad on the side. Two glasses of red wine were left as well. "Harry, when Darius brought me back to the world of the Living, he had something rather interesting to say concerning Sirius."

"Is he alive?" asked Harry, suddenly realizing that he was asking too much of Darius.

"No," Remus said sadly, "but he did make it to the Death Realm peacefully, and he is easy to conjure up for communing purposes, although it takes a rather advanced Dark witch or Wizard to be able to commune with someone recently deceased. However, I heard that Severus Snape has a niece about your age who can commune with the Dead rather effortlessly, a true Necromancer."

"What are you saying, exactly?" Harry asked, placing a piece of tender meat into his mouth

"Your friend, Cassandra Snape, has a rather rare gift for a girl her age," Remus said. "Did I teach her when you were a Third Year?"

"You would have," Harry said. "She's had all my classes with me since Year One because she's my age, and a Slytherin. Since she's very good with keeping in the shadows, I can see how you could easily forget her. If she doesn't want to be noticed, she makes herself scarce."

"Severus has that ability too," Remus said. "I first realized that when I met him." He began to eat the pheasant Celeste had given him, and then took a sip of the red wine. "You added a few extra spices for the holidays, Celeste?"

"Yes, I did!" Celeste shouted. "What are you going to do about it, Remus?"

"I'm going to eat it like a good boy," Remus said, teasing the tomboyish landlady.

Celeste pulled up a third chair and sat with Remus and Harry for a while. "So, Harry, did you know that I've got a niece that's your age? Her name is Naomi, and she's in Hufflepuff."

"I've met Naomi before," Harry said. "She's quite attractive."

"You think she's cute, eh?" Celeste said, and then began to laugh. "I think she's got a nice body for a girl her age, but I think she lacks all the common sense of the world. All I can see in Naomi's future is her becoming some fellow's dingbat wife."

"That's not nice, Celeste," Remus said, "but after meeting Naomi, it fits."

"Doesn't it, though?" Celeste said through laughs. "She's a good-for-nothing mooch."

"She seemed nice when I met her," Harry argued. "Sure, she was rather self-centered, but almost everyone that is around my age is like that."

"I've got Lycaon's littlest one with me for the celebration tonight," Celeste said. "Would you like to meet my favorite niece?"

"This is Marpessa, right?" Remus asked Celeste.

"Yeah, this little lady I'm about to introduce you to is none other than the same Marpessa that my brother constantly brags about," Celeste said excitedly. "She looks just like me."

She strutted off to the back and dragged out a little girl around the same age as Cecil and Teiresias. Marpessa Fenrir had long red hair down to her waist, and it was combed back neatly, save for two small ponytails that stuck up on the sides. Her eyes were about the same color as Harry's, a deep emerald green, and had dark eyelashes to go with them. As was to be expected for a young Pureblooded witch her age, Marpessa had a wand with her. The attire she was dressed in was a bit mystical in style, but did not look out-of-place on a ten-year-old girl of the Wizarding World; a green broomstick skirt with a baggy beige sweater and high-top sneakers. Over all, she looked extremely friendly, and downright adorable. However, to Harry, Marpessa didn't look all that overly much like her Aunt Celeste.

"Marpessa, this is my friend Remus Lupin, the one I told you about?"

"You mean the one that used to date you?" Marpessa asked in a very outgoing voice.

"Yes, that's me," Remus said, shaking the little girl's hand. "What a firm grip!"

"Daddy showed me how to shake properly," Marpessa said, and then pointed at Harry.

"Whoa. Aunt Celeste didn't tell me that _you _would be here! Harry Potter, of all people to come to the Black Annis, it had to be you on New Year's Eve?" She giggled and shook his hand.

"My daddy owns the Nightly Oracle, and he's going to be teaching you Phobomancy soon."

"Speaking of the Oracle," Remus said, glancing at Celeste. "Do you have tonight's issue?"

"As a matter of fact," Celeste said, looking around the room, "I don't."

"That's a pity," Remus said, sighing. "I was wondering what Lycaon would have gotten printed in that paper of his on a night like this."

"Oh, there's just no telling when you're talking about that psychotic brother of mine!" Celeste roared merrily as she helped herself to the wine Harry hadn't bothered to touch. "Lycaon's been known to go out entirely on a whim and not care at all about the emotions and welfare of others. But if that tells you anything about him as a person, I'll be damned. He's such a good father to his three girls, whether Naomi and Cora will admit to that or not." She took yet another sip and said, "Oh, sorry Harry! I'll get you another glass—"

"That's okay," Harry said. "I wasn't going to drink that anyway. My mind is elsewhere." He felt around in his pockets and could feel two identical Nemesarist rings—one from Morty, and one from Darius—in there, amongst a couple of leftover Knuts and Sickles. Suddenly, Harry could hear a bunch of cheery songs coming from nearly thirty other people in the pub. He looked around a bit and noticed that Rhianna and Blaise were sitting at a table with a man, drinking butterbeer. "Hold on a moment…what are you two doing here?"

"We're celebrating the New Year in the Black Annis with a good friend of mine," Rhianna said. "What are _you_ doing here, Harry?"

"It's usually only Slytherin students that come here from Hogwarts, you know," Blaise said. "It's not that we mind Gryffindors coming to the Annis, quite the contrary, but I thought you guys liked The Wit's End better."

"I like the Annis better, thanks," Harry said, although he couldn't back up that statement at the moment; he hadn't exactly slept in the tavern yet. "There's more of a close-knit air in here, while the Wit's End is rather flamboyant."

"I'm not going to disagree with you," said Blaise.

"Blaise, Rhianna, what's going on over here?" asked a rather smooth voice. It wasn't velvety or silky, but more like a taffeta. Harry was very surprised to see where the elegant-sounding voice resonated from; this fellow was a few pounds overweight, but had a tall and lanky build to him. Lime green hair was up in spikes, and a tattoo of a red rose was on the left side of his jaw. "I just went to talk to Rosalyn about keeping my store open, and then when I come back, I see one of your friends has decided to join you in the New Year's festivities? What seems to be the problem?"

"I just wanted to see what Rhianna and Blaise were up to, sir, that's all," Harry said politely to the eccentric man. When he looked a bit closer at the guy, Harry suddenly realized that the man looked a bit like Lydia Von Dorian in the face. "I'm just curious, sir; are you a Von Dorian?"

"Yes, actually, I am," said the man, smiling. Harry could see fangs, so Rhianna and Blaise's host was without a doubt a vampire. "My name is Lawrence Von Dorian, and I own a store that sells rare books a couple of buildings down from the Annis."

The thoughts of the most powerful living Von Dorian raced through Harry's head, as well as the many comments that Stanzi had made about her long-term crushes on this green-haired gentleman. "Did you ever meet Constanza Talus-Quirrell?"

"Of course I have met her, but I met her when she still went as Stanzi Talus," Lawrence Von Dorian said in that slightly-frilly voice of his. In a sense, Harry assumed this guy was a lot like Lucius Malfoy, only perhaps friendlier toward other people. He took a sip of the drink he had ordered, and then sent it back because it didn't taste right. "It was rather amusing seeing that sparkle and glitter in her eyes. Romance was going through her mind, but I can assure you that it was not racing through mine." When Lawrence noticed the glare that both Harry _and_ Blaise were giving him, he made a quick recovery; "It's not that she wasn't pretty—far from it!—but she was already seeing someone else at that time, and I respect the boundaries of a relationship. I'm not the suave thief of hearts that people make me out to be in the Wizarding World."

"Well, that's always good to know," Blaise said, elbowing Lawrence. "I was about to say that you were going down the wrong path by saying something bad about Professor Talus."

"And why would that be, Blaise Zabini?" Lawrence inquired, raising his voice curiously.

"Because…I really like to Duel, and she's such a cool Dueler…" Blaise replied weakly.

"I thought so," Lawrence said, turning to face Harry. "How did you recognize me as a Von Dorian? I keep my pictures out of all the papers, save the Quibbler."

"You just look a lot like Lydia Von Dorian," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course Lydia and I would look a lot alike," Lawrence said. "She's my big sister, and if I were dead, she would be the most powerful vampire of the Von Dorian clan."

"This is confusing," Rhianna said, sipping on her drink. "Harry, I thought you said that Lydia Von Dorian was a lamia."

"She is," Harry said, "but she's primarily a vampire."

"Poor Cassandra has such a messed-up family," Blaise whispered. "Sure, I like Lawrence, but I've met some of the other Von Dorians. They're really not a friendly bunch. If you mention the Slayers Renaissance to them, they tense up and then begin to conspire together to fulfill your demise."

"Where did you meet Lawrence?" asked Harry.

"Well, Rhianna's dad was very good friends with him, and he's very well acquainted with my grandfather on my mum's side of the family," Blaise answered. "He's like a big brother to us."

"Yeah," Rhianna said, "a punked-out big brother with a fetish for white wine and flowers."

Suddenly, Lawrence began—along with Remus, Celeste, and several other people in the pub—to count down numbers and look at the television screen in the corner (Celeste Fenrir had made sure the Annis had electricity). "Three…two…one…HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYBODY!" The crowd began to sing Auld Lang Syne in unison, and then cheered as they took a grand sip together to celebrate the beginning of the year 1997.

Harry stayed to party for a while longer, but he eventually wore himself out. Celeste led him to his lodgings in the tavern, and he was very impressed with how the room looked. Unlike the Wit's End, the room didn't look like part of a ritzy hotel; instead, it looked like a charming bedroom inside somebody's house, prepared especially for a special guest. There was a tiny bag of **Lorelei Siren's Mood Drops **on the pillow of the bed, and a little note was there that had Harry's name on it in spidery green letters. Curious as to where the letter had come from—and, more importantly, who sent it—he looked at the return address…"Miss Cassandra E. Snape, Cell 999, Azkaban Prison." Harry's eyes widened with amazement; Cassandra had found a way to contact him! More excited than he had been in a very long time, Harry zealously opened the letter to see what his friend had written:

"Dear Harry,

It has been a while since you and I have been able to communicate with one another. I wanted you to know that I am doing rather well, putting into consideration that I am in Azkaban for the murder of a well-respected Alchemist that you and I know was out to kill you. You, Luna, and the others believe me, don't you? Icarus Parenein was a Death Eater, and I can give you the names of a few other people you did not mention last year in the Quibbler. My dad, Claudius Snape, is a very active one. All of the Fallowins—save Rick and Aurelius—are involved, so there's no use thinking that Rick comes from a good family. The Cantarus family has served Voldemort as long as I have known them, and I hear that Stella AND Julius Cantarus are turning into Dementors. I have no reason to keep their identities secret; I've got a long list of grievances that these people have caused me, so I have no obligation to hide their activities with the Dark Lord from you.

I've been keeping up to date with my schoolwork; Darius has been sweet and made sure to visit me almost every day. Great guy, isn't he? Sometimes Morty comes along, and one time Darius brought Aurelius Fallowin and Lycaon Fenrir with him! I was so delighted to see that Aurelius made it out of Azkaban, after all that happened to him. He's Teiresias's godfather, you know; kind of like how Sirius was to you.

Speaking of Sirius, you won't believe what I managed to do while I was in my cell the other day. Remember how I have that little talent where I can commune with the Dead? Well…let's just say you don't necessarily need a wand to be able to do that. He wants me to continue my Necromancy studies, so I think I'll do that. Besides, it's not like there's really that much to do in a prison cell anyway.

I'm going to bring this letter to a close, even though it's really good to write to you. I just hope you get this and find the time to write me back. I know that I'm not supposed to EVER write what I'm about to put on this piece of paper out where someone else might be able to read it (so burn this letter when you're finished so nobody else can spy on what I'm going to tell you!), but I really felt you might want to know this. Celeste Fenrir is a family friend of mine, and owns the Black Annis. I gave the letter to Darius, and he was supposed to hand it to Celeste, who in turn is supposed to make sure it gets to you.. Anyway…on January 2nd, there is going to be a Nemesarium at the Black Annis, in the attic. Morty, Darius, Aurelius, Lycaon, Celeste, Severus, and the other Nemesarists are supposed to be there. What I wanted to tell you is that I am a Nemesarist, and so are two of my fellow Slytherins…Rhianna Apathy and Blaise Zabini. If you join in our secret circle, Harry, you can't tell anyone of this…not even Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore. You can trust in Blaise and Rhianna, though; I know I'd trust them with my very soul if it ever came down to it.

Please write me back as soon as you can. I'll be waiting for your reply.

-**Cassandra Electra Snape**"

Harry looked at the letter a few more times before he fell asleep. In his dreams, he was riding on his Firebolt, winning the Quidditch Cup for not only Gryffindor, but the Hawkbane team as well. He was going to travel abroad one day, or so he hoped. Sleep took to him like children to a stash of candy, and he fell into the hand-tucked bed gracelessly. He didn't care, though; the landing was comfortable, and he was going to see what Nemesarium truly was the next day. It was strange how he could sleep through something so exciting, but he couldn't help it…eating all that roasted pheasant had made him drowsy.

_Well, there you go my fellow Nemesarists! Another chapter posted for your reading enjoyment and reviewing! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and a big thanks to everyone who has read the story up to this point. I do want to let you all know: Cassandra will be making another appearance. Hope is not lost! Until next chapter, keeping practicing those spells. Professor M. Skylarke_


	30. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Nemesarium

"Harry," a voice called out.

"No," Harry grumbled, not wanting to get up. "Wake me up later, okay? Not now…"

"Harry," the voice said again, shaking him a bit. "Look, it's about three in the afternoon. You missed the New Year's party that Celeste threw downstairs, and you've slept through the majority of the day. I think it's time you woke up."

"Aw…come on; be nice," Harry said, pushing his face deeply into the pillows. "I need my rest too, you know."

"You're getting up, and that's final," said the voice, and Harry was dragged out of the bed. Tapping his foot impatiently before him was Darius. "I've been waiting here for two hours."

"Why?" Harry asked. "It's not like you're teaching Necromancy right now…"

"No," Darius said, "but I wanted to make sure you were fully awake and had a bit of time to unwind before Nemesarium begins at six o' clock."

"It begins in three hours?" Harry asked nervously. "Darius, where is everyone going to be?"

"Here," Darius said in a slightly haughty tone.

"Stop being a smart-alec, alright?" Harry said. "I know it's in the Annis, but which room?"

"That's why I woke you up," Darius said. "I wanted to tell you that it's not going to be in the pub or somebody's room. Instead, Celeste has an attic at the top of the tavern; we're meeting up there so we won't be disturbed by any of her customers."

"Rhianna and Blaise are Nemesarists too, right?" inquired Harry. "Cassandra mentioned that in a letter I received last night."

"Yeah," Darius said. "They became part of the circle around the same time Varinia Loxias signed in as a Manipulations teacher." He sat on the bed and chewed on the contents of Harry's candy bag from the night before. His shirt was unbuttoned, and porcelain-like skin could be seen where the shadows didn't take over. '_Every time I see him, he looks even more girly than he did the time before that_', thought Harry as he watched Darius comb that long, ghostly pale hair.

Three hours later, Harry was ready to head up to the attic of the Black Annis. He watched as people dressed in forest green robes arrived and climbed up the staircase into the attic. Following them, he entered the meeting place and watched as the décor changed from cozy to bohemian. The seats up in the attic were nothing more than empty crates and wooden boxes. A few threadbare rugs decorated the pale wooden floor, and a half-broken chandelier with partially-melted candles in it lit the entire space. The only thing that looked even a little fancy up there was a fountain that actually appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.

"It came to me from the Department of Relics recently," said one of the hooded figures. Harry could tell by the voice that the speaker was an American woman. "It turns out that the Fountain was given to me in Claire's will."

"Andromache, there was a bit of controversy between you and me concerning whether or not you could keep it here in the Black Annis," Harry heard Celeste say. She was the only adult in the attic that wasn't wearing a green robe. "I still think that it would be safer in the Department of Relics up at the Ministry of Magic, but if you'd rather keep something so priceless in my tavern, I won't object to a fellow Nemesarist."

"It's settled, then," said the woman, Andromache, as she sat down next to the fountain. "I don't know why Claire gave it to me, though. I'm not a lamia like Lydia."

"She considered you a friend," said a familiar voice that Harry recognized as Snape. "I worked with Claire, and I know that she thought a lot of you, although I can't really understand why. You're just about as normal as black attire on a Nemesarist, or brown leather on Morty."

"It's true," said Morty. Harry couldn't tell which hooded person was the melancholy Curses & Rootwork professor, but he recognized the voice immediately. "You hardly ever see me expand my wardrobe anymore."

"As opposed to me," said another hooded person with long white hair sticking out of the front, so of course, this was Darius speaking. "I'm almost always wearing or borrowing something new to expand my already gigantic wardrobe. I can go for two months without wearing the same outfit. Nice, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Aurelius, "if you're a girl. And the last time I checked, Darius, you were still a man."

"I'm still a man, yes," Darius said, "but I'm in tune with my feminine side as well."

"A little too much," Aurelius replied, pulling his hood down. "Morty, we're waiting here."

"Oh, alright," Morty said, pulling his hood down as Aurelius had done. "Everyone may take their cloaks off if they so desire. The Nemesarium of January 2, 1997 has come to order. Of course we have a lot more to talk about since the last time we met a few days before Christmas."

"There is good news for me," Aurelius interrupted. "Of course, I have been pardoned—"

"Aurelius!" Andromache said, squealing, "That's wonderful!" When Harry looked at her closely, he recognized her as Andromache Morgan, one of the Quidditch judges that was responsible for constructing the Hawkbane team…as well as one of the biggest fans of Lucinda Snitchgrass and the Kyoto Tsunamis. Her hair had become a bit grayer since the match, but she was still wearing the same teal cardigan and khaki pants under the green robe. "So, now that you're out of Azkaban and don't have the authorities after you, what do you plan to do with your life?"

"Well, Severus, Darius, and Morty are teaching at Hogwarts, and Lycaon's going to begin in a few days. I thought I'd follow suit and start teaching an Exorcism class," Aurelius looked very proud of himself. "I take pride in my abilities as an Exorcist, and am willing to show other individuals with an aptitude for something like that how to vanquish demons and other entities."

"That's great," Harry said, interrupting. "I'll sign up for it, I promise!"

"Why, hello there, Harry!" Aurelius said, grinning. "I didn't even notice you were in here."

"Feel free to take a seat anywhere," Darius added. "I think that only one of our Nemesarists won't be showing up for this meeting, besides Lydia…who ditched us for New York City. The selfish little man-eater's at it again."

"She hasn't exactly been able to leave Azkaban, Darius," Morty said. "But that is what this meeting has been called for…we are all going to begin forming a plan to get Cassandra Snape out of her imprisonment. I say we file for an appeal."

"That wouldn't work as well as you would first think, Morty," said Andromache. "Darius has had a few bad run-ins with the law for those Undead Rights campaigns; Aurelius may have been pardoned, but he's still got a bad reputation as a vandal; I've given false testimony in Magical Court before, so I'm not viewed as a credible source; Severus, Lycaon AND Darius have a past in which they were Death Eaters; Lycaon and Celeste are werewolves, and Lycaon has been in Azkaban before for using the Crucatius Curse on a merciless reporter; Aldebaran is nowhere to be found most of the time; Lydia's the sister of Lawrence Von Dorian, and one of the most powerful vampires in Britain; and, Morty, let's face it…although you've never had any problems with the law, people are assuming that you've got the gorgonix inside you."

"Very well," Morty said, grimly. "I thought that the appeal was worth a try. I have a squib friend that's a lawyer, so I thought maybe Randall could have been of some help for Cassandra."

"Why don't we just do what you, Severus, and Darius did for me?" Aurelius suggested. "Sirius Black proved that Azkaban wasn't impenetrable three years ago; more people have escaped that I can keep up with."

Harry finally decided that he wanted to sit in-between Morty and Aurelius. "I was just wondering," he began. "Would it be alright if I got some of the students together to help with this?"

"As long as you keep quiet about our society," said Snape, "then by all means go ahead, Potter. This is my niece we're talking about, and if you intend on helping her break out, I'm not going to stop you this time."

"As all of you that have taught me know, I've got a friend that is incredibly clever," Harry said. "I'm sure that Hermione could come up with something."

"I thought you said that YOU had an idea," Snape hissed, curling his lips back.

"I've been gathering some students together for the SOS campaign for quite a while now, and I believe I have convinced at least a third of the school that letting Cassandra out of Azkaban would be a good idea.—"

Harry was cut off by a loud slamming of the attic door. "I'm so sorry for being late, everyone!" shouted a voice Harry recognized as Stanzi. Stanzi then pulled her hood down.

"Who invited you to Nemesarium, Talus?" Snape asked angrily. "We don't need an airhead like you ruining everything for the people that take Grey Magic seriously."

"Hey, I DO take it seriously, Severus," Stanzi countered. "And to answer your question, it was Darius that asked me if I wanted to attend the first Nemesarium of 1997."

"How could you?" Snape said in a rather upset voice toward Darius, and began to shake the pale vampire by the shoulders. "Nemesarium is meant for people that refuse to believe in a black-and-white world. The last time I spoke to Talus about Nemesarium, she asked me, 'Now does that make us the good guys or the bad guys?' There is no way in Heaven or Hell that I could take a woman like that seriously when it comes to our secret society."

"For some odd reason, I found it impossible to say 'no' to her," Darius whined. "Now do you mind getting your hands off my shirt? It's taffeta and I don't want it to wrinkle." Snape let go, and Darius proceeded to try to straighten out the wrinkles.

Two other Nemesarists pulled their hoods down, and Harry was rather relieved to see that he wasn't the only student in the attic. "Hi, Harry," said Rhianna.

"You're a pending member too?" Blaise asked. "I've wanted to join Nemesarium as long as I can remember knowing what it was all about. Darius made it sound so great when I went to an Afterlight course, and then I decided that I wanted to become a Nemesarist."

"I just joined because Morty convinced me that I'd learn stuff here that neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort could show me," Rhianna admitted. "It's true; there's a lot I've learned in here that I doubt either of them would even want to know how to do."

"Did you want to learn how to do it?" asked Harry.

"Actually, yes," Rhianna answered. "Nowhere else could I learn how to make an animal talk to me in English, or get directions to a place by asking a Dead guide, or understand how the Afterlife works once you cross the line into Death…just to name a few things I've learned in two sessions." She grinned merrily and said, "I also know how to raise a dragon on my own."

"How nice," Harry said, trying to sound pleasant. "Rhianna, is everything taught in here a Dark Art, or is it just most of the stuff?"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Snape said, answering instead of Rhianna. "There's no black magic of any kind going on up in this attic among Nemesarists and pending members."

"I'm talking to Ariel through communion," blurted Fenrir.

"Communing with your deceased wife doesn't count, Lycaon," Darius said, yawning. "I think I'm going to get a cup of tea for everyone. My Necromancy patients are more active than tonight's crowd, for some odd reason. Liven up, everybody; this is just like being in the morgue!"

"Are you talking about the Resurrected ones or the stiffs, Professor Ahsimal?" asked Blaise.

"I told you, Blaise; you and I are friends, so call me Darius," Darius said, rolling his eyes. "And I was talking about the stiffs. They have more life in them than all of you put together."

"Don't even joke about that," Morty said, leaning back on his crate. "I don't find it funny in the least to bring up Dead people. I somewhat take it offensively, and have good reason to do so."

"Speaking of the Dead," said Snape, "I just looked in the obituaries today. You're not going to believe what I found in there."

"Try me," Aurelius said. "Let me guess, Alexander Furrier or Lucinda Snitchgrass died?"

"Most unfortunately, that's not the case," Snape groaned. "It was—"

"What do you mean 'most unfortunately,' you jerk?" Stanzi shouted, waving a fist in Snape's face. "Alex is my best friend!"

"And I'm Snitchgrass's biggest fan," Ms. Morgan said quietly, not even bothering to get up.

"Another individual has fallen prey to the gorgonix, and it was Portia Cyanis, strangled," Snape let the words issue from his mouth in such a fluid manner than Harry felt like he was going to be sick.

"Portia!" Aurelius gasped. "Damn, this thing is targeting the lamiae first, isn't it?"

"Well, it first got rid of Wolfe Leir—"

"That is a lie!" shouted Darius. "When I asked Cassandra about icky old Icarus Parenein, she mentioned that she had read in his diary that he was Wolfe's murderer, not the gorgonix."

"Is there even a gorgonix out there?" Fenrir pondered.

"I doubt that," Stanzi said, looking rather haughty. "And I'm sure that it's targeting the teachers with the worst pasts rather than for what they are…rather, what they were."

"That's foolishness," Snape said.

"Oh, you think so!" Stanzi shouted.

"Keep it quiet," Snape said. "Do you want everyone to know what's going on up here?"

"I don't necessarily care right now," Stanzi said, pulling back her sleeves. "Bring it on."

Harry watched as an argument progressed between Stanzi and Snape, and noticed that none of the actual Nemesarists were bothering to break it up. Instead, they were simply staying put in their seats, watching the tension build as if it were on television. And it was then that the pushing began between the Potions Master and the Dueling Instructor, starting with Stanzi.

"I don't even know why you'd want to be a Nemesarist, Talus," Snape spat. "Your personality goes against all of ours, and you seem to be one of those goody-goodies that thinks we're evil."

"This may be a newsflash for you, Severus," Stanzi shouted back, "but you're not the good guys either!"

"Don't you think we ALL know that?" Snape said, stopping the shoving from his side. "The practices we follow are called the Grey Arts Theory for a reason." After that last comment, Stanzi said a quick 'Excuse me,' and then sat down silently, her face turning beet red.

"I'm sorry if this doesn't seem to be very interesting to you," Aurelius whispered to Harry. "Things usually heat up after our early argument between Severus or Lycaon and some other unfortunate Nemesarist or pending member."

"What's going to be our practice for the evening?" Harry asked the entire room, trying very hard to get things back on track with Nemesarium.

Luckily for him, his tactic worked. "Let's see…" Morty began. "What's in the interest of Nemesarium this evening? Is it the will of the society to cover the history of an unsung witch or wizard of great power, to learn another survival trick of the Grey Arts, or to cover a certain spell that can only be learned amongst us and not at any school?"

"Let's do a Curse," said Fenrir. "Preferably an irremediable one, Morty."

"Very well," Morty said. "As a Cursemaster, it should be my duty to produce one that I had to learn from an already dead mentor…am I correct?"

"Yes," said Blaise and Rhianna. "You're correct, Morty."

Harry felt rather nervous the entire time as he watched the gestures of the Nemesarists, but decided that it would be best to not make a big deal about any of the ceremonial stuff. In a sense, the Nemesarists were nothing like the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters. The air surrounding the denizens of Nemesarium seemed to be an even closer bond, as if there was some sort of unbreakable seal that haunted over each and every one of the members, threatening them to never break the tie. While one part of him was bothered by the mixing of Black Magic with the rest of Magic, the other part was intrigued by the theory the Nemesarists presented…that the only thing that made Magic evil or not was the intentions of the person conjuring it. It was very appealing, and he could admire several of the people in the mysterious society.

"Let's see," Morty said, pulling a book out of his pocket. On it were the words '**Never-Ending Book of Perpetual Curses**.' "This looks promising. Kiss of a Friend, anyone?"

"Only _you_ know what that is, Morty," said Celeste, sticking out her tongue. "There's no way we can judge a Curse simply by its title. What's it do, and then we'll see what everyone says."

"This Curse can even be done to a lesser extent by Muggles," Morty began, "and it is a very effective spell that can never be undone. Once put into action, it leads to the slow and painful demise of the victim."

He read into further detail about the Curse in the book, and then closed it, a frightened look appearing on his usually calm face. "No, everyone; I don't want to do something harmful tonight. Too many have suffered in the current events for me to stomach that…"

"Mortimer Ebenezer Skylarke, stop being a sissy!" Fenrir said angrily. "I want to learn something that is irreparable, and since you're a Cursemaster, you're the only one of us that could even perform the Forbidden Curses legally. Show us!"

"Yeah, Morty!" Aurelius said, pushing Morty to the front. "Show us!"

"SHOW US! SHOW US! SHOW US!" chanted the Nemesarists.

"You've GOT to show us how to work that Curse!" Stanzi shouted, not looking very pleasant in that fading sunset-light. While she always looked eccentric, she had always looked like a friendly person with a good spirit. Not now; she looked partially demented.

Harry could see the look of horror on Morty's face, and it bothered him tremendously. Just about a week ago, it had been Christmas and the majority of the people here had been at the Lair, opening presents, eating Lydia Von Dorian's turkey, and doing quite a lot of friendly teasing. Now they seemed to be slightly different; a bit darker in character. He knew that Ron and Hermione would never even consider joining such a circle as Nemesarium, but Harry honestly couldn't make up his mind about whether or not he wanted to. On one side, it would teach him some of the rarest and advanced magic, but on the other hand, he'd have to dabble a bit with the Dark Arts as well.

"Very well," Morty said submissively. "I'll show everyone how to do it, but we must all pledge to never use it on another Nemesarist unless he or she breaks the bond of our circle, and even then, only for the most heinous inequities."

All the Nemesarists then recited a poem, emphasizing their trust. From hearing it, Harry assumed that it was their pledge:

_All together we now stand_

_Nemesarium hand in hand_

_But if the bond is ever crushed_

_The traitor's death will then be rushed_

_Enigma we all shall remain_

_While we unite in one domain_

_But if a turncoat tells it all_

_Work together to bring downfall_

_More than family we now are_

_With neither contract nor a scar_

_But if a defector breaks the tie_

_It's a shame, but he must die_

"It's a great way to make sure people take us seriously," Aurelius whispered to Harry when he seemed to notice the look of horror on Harry's face at the comment. "But that pledge is for deserters of our society that make us public. That has only happened in the history of Nemesarium once, and we are sure that it will never happen again."

"I most certainly hope not!" Stanzi shouted. "That's barbaric!"

"Yeah, well, you're one of us, missy. You have no say-so anymore about right and wrong," Fenrir said icily. "Celeste, I'm thirsty. Could you fetch your dear brother something to drink?"

"I'd fetch him something to drink if he were dear to me," Celeste retorted. "Get it yourself, Lycaon Fenrir!" There was silence for a moment, but then a bit of nervous laughter. By each second, Harry became more and more uncomfortable. "MORTY! SHOW US THAT BLOODY KISS OF A FRIEND THING ALREADY! Some of us want to wrap this meeting up."

"I can see why," Harry muttered to himself, hoping nobody heard him.

"It's very complicated the first time used, but then it becomes rather simplistic," Morty said, his voice breaking up as he lost his confidence in front of his peers. "I can't give an example tonight, but let's just go through this curse hypothetically. Let's say that Severus viewed me as his best friend, but I wanted to get rid of him. I can do it discreetly by not even muttering an incantation or the flick of a wand. Fate can be sealed by a hate-filled kiss, which is potent especially when it comes from someone the victim feels is very close to him…the least person he'd expect to betray his trust and friendship. After a brief kiss on the right cheek is administered, the rest is taken over by Fate."

"I don't believe in Fate," Stanzi countered.

"Good for you," Darius snapped back. "Now, shut up and let Morty finish his explanation."

"The victim will die before the week is out, and it will be a slow one of excruciating pain," Morty said, about to go into tears. "I really didn't want to share this one! Why won't you guys insist on something pleasant like you used to do when we were the same age that Harry, Blaise, and Rhianna are now?"

"It's because we found out that only the more sinister-appearing magic is worthwhile the hard way, Morty," said Fenrir. "Being a former Death Eater can do that to you." He laughed a bit, but it didn't seem to be a friendly laugh. "It's a truth that Darius, Severus, and I know that you and Aurelius never did firsthand."

"Well, pardon me for having morals," Aurelius said, spitting at Fenrir. "At least I tried to make something of my life before Licinius screwed with my only chance!"

Lycaon Fenrir did not seem at all miffed at Aurelius's angry behavior. "I know how you tend to get cranky easily. Your little friend Sirius was the same way."

Harry was outraged by Fenrir's comments. If it was possible, that man made him even angrier than Snape did. However, he also noticed that Aurelius had a look of outrage clearly etched on his still gaunt—but beginning to look healthier—face. "Come here and say that a little bit closer to me, Lycaon," Aurelius threatened. "I'll be sure to knock that smirk right off your face."

"I'm not doubting you," Fenrir said. "We all know what a violent man you truly are deep down in the depths of your heart." The smirk was too much for Harry, but Aurelius's face had gone from a rosy pink to scarlet…so he knew that he wasn't the only one on Sirius's side. "I guess it comes from being an indecisive fence-sitter; you were our record-breaking pending member…you've attended more Nemesariums than I have, and you just joined in November, if my memory is leading me on properly. Shame, Aurelius…you could have been one of the Great Six."

Snape had said almost nothing the entire meeting, but he did manage to get something out. "Lycaon, taunting Aurelius like that may not be the smartest thing to do. He's been in Azkaban for quite some time now, and I think he might actually be the first Nemesarist to be able to physically beat you up if you keep provoking him." He turned to face Aurelius and said flatly, "If you fight Lycaon, I will not have seen a thing." His lips were curled up a bit, and his arms were folded. "Now, Morty, if you will…show us that Curse."

Morty blanched, and his eyes widened. "Well…if it is the will of the society." He sighed heavily and then read a selection out of '**Continuous Book of Perpetual Curses**' about, "The Kiss of A Friend—a very complicated death spell that can take anywhere from an hour to a year to take full effect. While complicated, this spell can even be done by Muggles when performed properly, since the theory is that this Curse is wandless. The person desiring to use the Curse must be thought of as a close friend of the designated victim, otherwise the entire concept will backfire and cause the desirer to become suicidal—are you SURE you want me to continue with this!"

"YES!" shouted Celeste and Lycaon Fenrir in unison. "Continue, and be as brave as you used to be!"

"I recall that you weren't so cowardly when you founded Nemesarium as a First Year," Darius said, leering a little at Morty, a slightly savage smile curling up on his pale, feminine face. Harry looked at Darius's nails and just noticed that he had painted them red…blood red.

"I wasn't a rejuvenated corpse when I was eleven, Darius," Morty said flatly with a slightly angry tone in his wavering voice. "Anyway, it is as the circle commands; I shall continue. The desirer must be completely trusted by the victim, and held in the highest regard. In secret, the desirer must make plans for demise, and only one crowd well-trusted should be kept with the secret, so as not to alarm the victim until their untimely death." He put a bookmark in the text and slammed the book. "That's it—I really don't want to read any more of this particular spell. It begins to talk a little bit about my family's religion—"

"Yeah, we all know that you came from a Roman Catholic family, okay?" said Darius. "Come on, Morty. Nobody's going to force you to continue. If you want to quit, go ahead; we're all friends here." He smiled a bit, and this time it actually looked warm and friendly instead of sadistic. Harry was relieved, but at the same time disgusted. It was as if he didn't fully know these people that had been so helpful to him this year, or at least as he thought he should have known them.

"Thanks, Darius," Morty said, looking very horrified. "This isn't exactly what I planned on covering tonight with the other Nemesarists."

"Nobody's going to make you continue," Darius said sweetly.

"That's right," said Snape. "We've already squeezed more out of you than you cared to share, and we appreciate your generosity. However, the rest of us WOULD like to know the rest of the Curse." He looked around the room and then his dark eyes focused on Harry. "Potter, how about you come up here and finish reading about the Kiss of a Friend?"

Harry went up there, half-reluctantly and half-eager. It was as if his good side was screaming for him to leave and drag Morty and Aurelius out as well, while his malicious side wanted to stay and find out what the Kiss of a Friend was truly capable of doing. He walked up to Snape and took the '**Continuous Book of Perpetual Curses**' into his own hands. It felt surprisingly light, as if it were hollow or filled with feathers. As he opened the book to where Morty had placed the bookmark, he could feel his palms sweating.

"Er…" he said, looking at the text. It was very light and fancy, almost too lacey to read. "After the date of death is determined, it cannot be changed. Three of the best times to try the Curse are during the week of Carnival, Good Friday, and the Ides of March, Carnival being the least conspicuous of the three to try."

"Read about why that is, Harry," said Stanzi, looking intrigued. "You're doing a great job."

"Two great examples are Marcus Brutus and Judas Iscariot, neither of which realized that although they got the Curse to work, it backfired as well. In both cases, suicide was committed; Brutus by a dagger and Iscariot by a self-made noose. This is also where the Ides of March and Good Friday get their potency. As for Carnival, that comes from the death of a nobleman whose best friend led him astray and murdered him in private. However, the desirer/friend of this nobleman confessed to a Catholic priest on his deathbed. Is it really worth it to destroy someone so brilliant for self-gain if you're just going to end up killing yourself when ruin comes?"

"Was that last part in the text, or is that your own questioning?" asked Snape.

"It's mine," Harry said, looking at the Nemesarists. "Is this Curse really worth its price?"

"Life leaves everyone eventually," Darius said. "As Death Eaters, we believed that it could be avoided. As a vampire, I used to believe myself invincible, unable to die at all. It's not true, and I saw how Sargon passed away before my very eyes. Mortality is unavoidable, whether you're the Dark Lord or a mere insect."

"So you're saying you'd throw your life away like a used piece of tissue paper simply to get rid of somebody who adored you?" Harry retorted, not caring whether or not Darius Ahsimal was his friend or not. That opinion of that androgynous being bothered him; something was seriously wrong with that concept.

"Thinking you'll live forever is dangerous," Darius said smoothly. "Besides, as long as there are Necromancers, there are ways to come back if you have someone alive that still cares about you." He grinned. "I have Nemesarium to help me forever. We shall die several times, but we'll all come back…over and over…in the same form."

"Reincarnation?" interrupted Rhianna.

"No," Darius said, laughing. "Resurrection. Everyone in here knows at least a little Necromancy, and perhaps enough to bring back one of our own if need arises."

Harry looked at the pages of that book some more and then rolled his eyes at Darius's delusional comment. "Look, Darius…the Curse says that even after Death, the victim AND the desirer are tormented forever, unless a Cursemaster takes it off. It's not worth it to use this spell!"

"I'm agreeing with Harry," Aurelius said, walking up to stand next to Harry. Morty stood next to them. His face was humorless and freakishly sallow, but he said nothing, even as his body began to sway around, as if he were going to faint. "The very idea of using this sort of Curse is revolting. I'm a Nemesarist, and therefore perhaps even a bit TOO open-minded, so I find very few things to be monstrous. This Kiss of a Friend, however, I think became extinct for a reason!"

"You're just scared to use it," said Fenrir, laughing. "I say let's try it out on someone."

"WHO!" everyone shouted.

"Surely not a fellow Nemesarist!" shouted Snape. "That's against our haunting code!"

"If you harm ANY of us, Lycaon Fenrir, we'll be in the right for giving you a slow and painful death," warned Stanzi. "Sometimes you sicken me, you jerk."

"Pardon ME, missy!" Fenrir shouted, throwing his chair at Blaise. "You looked delighted to see what that Curse was capable of doing. I wonder why." His voice dripped with disdain.

Stanzi's usually cool face dropped to a look of the utmost disgust…her bottom lip trembled a bit, but she said nothing as she walked out of the attic with Blaise and Rhianna. Celeste followed, and then Andromache. Harry watched as everyone began to leave the Black Annis attic, some chatting merrily, others laughing at a joke, but a few still sounding a little too ornery for his comfort level. "Are they going to be alright?" he whispered to Aurelius.

"They'll get over it," Aurelius replied as he pulled out a handkerchief to stop a nosebleed that had started only two seconds earlier. "They always do." He walked out, "Hey, Severus! Darius! Wait up for me!"

"Shut up, you idiot," Snape hissed. "Do you want to put all three of our lives in jeopardy?"

"Since I'm the adventurous type, are you sure that you want me to answer that question?" Aurelius asked in reply, laughing a bit.

Harry could hear Darius snigger a bit from that comment. "Come on, Aurelius. Let's go down to the pub and have a contest between the two of us to see who can down the most faerie liquor. I'm sure Severus will be pretty good at keeping score, since he doesn't drink that often."

"Harry," Morty said rather weakly. His voice was beginning to waver a bit, and by looking at him, Harry could tell that his Curses & Rootwork teacher was feeling either seriously weak or horrified from the Nemesarists' behavior. "I would like to apologize for this particular meeting. They usually are not this brutal and freakish in nature. We usually just sit around here, discuss something we feel might prove useful, and then just have a bit of fun dueling or what-not."

"It's alright, Morty," Harry said, giving his friend a forced smile. "It's not your fault that things didn't go quite as well as you'd planned them. I saw how you looked as you were reading from that book of yours," Harry handed it back over and continued, "and I got the feeling that you wanted to be anywhere else but Nemesarium at that moment. It takes a lot of courage to speak about something that seems so bad."

"You don't know the half of it," Morty said. "That Curse was performed on me when I was just a little bit older than you are now." He sighed heavily. "You know how Aurelius said that we only had to terminate one member in our entire history as a society? We had one member that betrayed me by using the Kiss of a Friend, and three of my friends now—Severus, Darius, and Lycaon—were close to joining her in it. I died because of that Curse, but also because of what all the Death Eaters managed to do." He bit his lip. "It was traumatizing, alright? I think I used to be a lot like you…and then that happened."

"Who was the Nemesarist?" asked Harry. "Would I know her?"

"Her name was Tabitha Malfoy," Morty said, "and she was my girlfriend at that time." The grave expression on Morty's face made him look once more like someone had used the Avada Kedavra on him…but then something happened; a more friendly, smug look came across his face. "But what's done is done; I'm a Cursemaster, so I knew how to fix the problem once I was returned to the world of the Living, and did so. I'm okay now, and that's all that matters. It is pointless to let the past continue to haunt you when you still have what's left of your life waiting to be lived." He then began to chuckle a little and said, "I could tell that you got a little creeped out."

"More than a little," Harry admitted. "You guys were even scarier than the Death Eaters because I actually saw a more sinister side to people that seemed so perfect until today." He shrugged, and laughed a bit more with Morty.

"I'm guessing now isn't a good time to ask," Morty said, still chuckling a bit, "but have you made your decision about whether or not you would like to become a Nemesarist?"

"As a matter of fact," Harry said, sounding much more serious as he returned _both_ of the Nemesarist rings that he had gotten from Morty _and_ Darius, "I have made my decision; I'm not going to become a member of your Grey Arts society."

Harry expected Morty to scowl at him and shout for him to leave, or something along those lines. He was unprepared for what Morty actually did, however; the Curses & Rootwork teacher just took the rings, placed them in one of his many pockets, and began to laugh like a schoolboy. "I understand completely, and I am not at all surprised by your decision," Morty said between laughs. "If I were you, I wouldn't join either…but don't think that makes you unwelcome to attend any future Nemesariums. You'll always be my personal guest if you ever have the drive to come back."

"Thanks," Harry said as he began walking down the staircase with Morty. "I appreciate that a lot."

"Oh, you're quite welcome," Morty said. "What are friends for?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

_Hello everyone...greeting from Nemesarium! I'm busy at the moment teaching my Curses and Rootwork class, but rest assured, I won't let it interfere with my telling of this tale! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed and to those of you who are worried about Cassandra, just be patient. I haven't forgotten about her! Take care everyone and don't forget to review if you never have before. I'd really like to know what you all think about the story thus far! Ciao for now...Professor Mortimer Skylarke_


	31. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty:

Exorcism and Phobomancy

Harry had made no effort to spend the last couple of days of his Christmas holiday in the Black Annis, despite the temptation of staying with Remus for a while. "I'll write you to see how you're doing," Harry said as he started on his long walk back to Hogwarts. He left the dark corner of Hogsmeade, and then passed through the Von Dorian territory—noticing that Lydia had recently returned to the Lair, driving a forest-green Volkswagen to a shadowy place that seemingly served as a garage—but took time to say a quick greeting to Lydia and Teiresias. Lydia seemed very glad to see him, and looked as if she were in surprisingly good spirits. Teiresias, however, looked like he was about ready to go back inside to sleep out the rest of the day.

Once leaving the Von Dorian territory, Harry caught sight of Morty and Fenrir outside the Three Broomsticks, sipping on what appeared to be nothing more than hot chocolate.

"Do you expect to go back to Hogwarts alone?" Fenrir asked, sounding much more like a calm and composed gentleman, rather than the violent brute who had surfaced at Nemesarium the evening before. "What did Weasley and Granger tell Dumbledore concerning why you were spending the holidays in Hogsmeade?"

"They told him that I was spending my Christmas holiday with Morty," Harry said, "so perhaps it _would_ be best if I returned to Hogwarts with you two." He rolled his eyes and said, "This makes me feel like I need an escort with me wherever I go…that's NOT true."

"Look, I know this might be a bit of an insult to your stupid celebrity ego, but it might be wise for you to come back to the school with us. Our good old friend Darius Ahsimal left with Severus and Aurelius after two of them had a chug-a-lugging contest in my sister's pub," Fenrir said, rolling his eyes. "Sure, Severus has matured quite a bit, but Aurelius will always be about your age at heart, and Darius…I expected more from someone at his age." He picked up a rather heavy-looking suitcase, and said, "I appreciate all the work that the faculty, staff, and students have done to set my new room up in Turret Seven—"

"That place is haunted," pointed out Harry.

"So what?" Fenrir countered. "So is the rest of Hogwarts. Besides, anyone with an ounce of common sense would know to back off when I'm in there."

Harry took a rather close look at Lycaon Fenrir to see what this man looked like when not in Nemesarium or formal attire…he wasn't as tall as Morty, and probably stood about a couple of inches below six feet. His hair was red, like Celeste's, but short and slightly wavy. No glasses were on his face, and he wasn't wearing a jacket in the snowy weather. As if he were an American teenager—or Aurelius—he was wearing faded blue jeans with a pair of hiking boots and a fading tee shirt with Black Sabbath's "Bark At the Moon" album art on it. His teeth weren't sparkling white, but they weren't yellow, either; but they were indeed sharp-looking. There was a very gruff air to him, and he was rather lean and muscular, to make up for his lack of tallness. To Harry, Fenrir looked like the kind of guy that would have been hired to portray a savage in a movie.

"You know, you're probably right, Mr. Fenrir—"

At that exact moment, Morty and Fenrir stopped walking, as did Harry; Hogwarts had been reached. "Well, there you go," Morty said. "Now, remember…we've got to keep the You-Know-What society under wraps, whether you're part of it or not.'

"By the way, Potter," Fenrir said, "I'm now _Professor_ Fenrir."

Harry sat down once more in the Great Hall, waiting for the other students to arrive for breakfast. He had missed Ron and Hermione since Christmas, and his other friends for even longer than that. Just as he was about to pick up a chocolate éclair, he was interrupted by a, "Why, Harry! Long time no see!" He looked up to see that it was Ginny that had spoken to him.

"Oh, Ginny!" he said, surprised by the suddenness. "I wasn't aware you were there."

"Er…well, I just got back from a brief Hogsmeade trip with Professor Talus from early this morning," she said, sighing. "Hanging out with her is like having a really cool big sister that doesn't mind you tagging along. After what I did in that Dueling session to Rick, I think she decided she was going to like me." Ginny grinned as she pulled a sleeve back to reveal a very expensive-looking silver bracelet that shared a striking resemblance to a Chinese Fireball dragon. "She got me this while we were there, since I liked it so much."

"It looks a little pricey," Harry said, looking at it closely.

"Oh, it was," Ginny said, laughing. "I like how Professor Talus replied when I told her that; she said, 'Well, it's only Cecil's college money.' Now THAT was sneaky."

"It's clear who's dominant in that relationship," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I saw Professor Talus a couple of evenings ago at the Black Annis, but that was it over the holidays."

"I wonder what she was doing there," Ginny said to herself. "Oh, I think I know! She's good friends with Celeste Fenrir…I bet that's why she was in that part of Hogsmeade." She shrugged again and then said, "Ron and I have been wondering about how you were doing ever since Christmas. He'll be very happy to see you, once he gets back up here and finishes talking to that ditsy girlfriend of his." She let out a very long, heavy sigh. "I swear…I can't stand that Isis Acheron girl. She seems so smart in class, and almost gets everything right, but I know for a fact that she lacks in common sense."

Harry could feel that small iron rod filled with vampire's elixir in his pocket, and then realized that he'd had it there the entire Christmas holiday. Quirrell had passed that to him as a self-defense against Pyrites, if the need came up…but somehow Harry got the impression that maybe this little mechanism wasn't going to do what his ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had claimed it would. He pulled it out and put it in his hand, to see if Hermione could be any help in seeing if Quirrell had really been that credible of a source.

"Is Hermione here?"

"Why, of course I'm here!" Hermione said, walking in with Ron. "Ron and I have really missed you since Christmas, Harry. There hasn't been a day that passed where we didn't worry about you staying at the Black Annis."

Ron added, "Sure, the lady that owns the place can be nice, and I know what a tough bird she is, but there really are a lot of loonies that hang out over there."

"Neither one of you is going to believe me when I tell you what happened after Lydia left for New York," Harry said, smiling. "I ran into Remus while I was looking for the Annis."

"You're joking, right?" Ron asked. "The gorgonix finished him off before summer ended."

"I know," Harry said, "but I did see him. Darius fully Resurrected him, and he was in rather good spirits on New Year's Eve."

Hermione looked at the iron tube Harry had just recently placed on the table, and decided to inquire about, "What is THAT?" She pointed at it with a rather pale, and slightly inky, finger.

"I got this from Quir—um…Lethe! Yeah, Lethe!—before the Yule Ball," Harry said, remembering the entire conversation regarding what Type B Gore Crows and Dementors were defenseless against. It had been a lot of information, all of which was disturbing, but that was to be expected from a partially-demented professor with THAT many psychological issues.

"What did she tell you it did?" Hermione asked, observing the tube very carefully as she picked it up.

"She—no, wait…she was a he when I was talking then—said that it was a hollow iron tube, and that vampire's elixir was inside," Harry said, "and that it is the only way to ward off Type B Gore Crows of the Fifth Degree…or something along those lines."

"It gives you the power to actually kill a Dementor, in other words," Hermione said, looking at the tube. "I'm not good at looking at metalwork and telling whether or not something is what someone else says it is. I'll go run down someone that has a good grasp on Alchemy to see if this is really iron to begin with."

She got up from the table and went over to where the Slytherins were sitting. "Oy, Rick!" she said, waving down a Slytherin that was bound to talk to her nicely. "Could you get Marcus over here for a minute?"

"I'll try," Rick said, getting up from his seat to scoot all the way down to where Marcus was sitting, flirting with Rhianna. "Marcus!"

"Hi, Rick," Marcus said, looking up. A small streak of oatmeal had gotten lodged on his cheek somehow, but he seemed to be unaware, and otherwise looked tidy. "How's it going?"

"Hermione needed to see you about something," Rick said, fidgeting a little.

"What about?" Marcus asked, a tad annoyed.

"Beats me," Rick said, walking off. "Okay, Hermione; I tried to get him; I hope you get what you want out of him." As he walked off, he didn't even turn around to say anything else.

Ron whispered to Harry, "Is it just me, or is Rick slowly, but surely, becoming more and more like the other Slytherins?"

"It's a real shame," Harry said, sighing. "He was nice at the beginning of the year. Gullible, but nice."

Hermione then came back to the table and sat in-between Ron and Harry. "Alright; Marcus clarified that this was not only on iron rod, but that it really IS nothing more than vampire's elixir inside." She pointed a finger at Harry and said, "You'll need to be careful with this stuff; your personality could temporarily turn to its polar opposite if you come in contact with too much of this stuff—"

"Lethe said that too!" whispered Harry.

"Well, then," Ron said, "I guess that means Juno Lethe isn't a liar out to get you anymore."

"Now, what incentive would I have in doing that again?" asked Lethe, coincidentally walking by.

"WONDERFUL!" shouted Celia from the Ravenclaw table. "This is bloody brilliant, everyone; the Exorcism and Phobomancy classes begin today!" She looked around and jumped about, asking everyone if they'd signed up or not. "I swear…I wanted to do both. They say that Aurelius Fallowin's going to teach Exorcism…fancy that! A murderer's teaching at Hogwarts!"

"For your information, Celia," Harry said, going over to where she was, "Aurelius Fallowin was framed to begin with AND he got pardoned around Christmas. He didn't murder anyone."

"How would you know?" asked Celia, tilting her head to the side.

"I've met him," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't going to admit to anyone—not even a friend like Celia—that he had known for quite some time that three professors had been harboring Aurelius inside Hogwarts while he had still been believed to be the criminal his twin had portrayed him to be. "He was even at the Yule Ball."

"I think I would have known, Harry, if Aurelius Fallowin had been there," said Celia.

"I doubt it," Harry said. "He was the nacho-eating crow."

"That was HIM!" Celia gasped and looked absolutely shocked. "WOW! And I thought that was a teacher's pet or something!" She ran off after that. "ATTICUS! JOSH! YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO WAS AT THE YULE BALL!"

"I had no idea she was that energetic," said Hermione, blinking. "However…" she put a couple of books on the table and said, "Dr. Hemlock helped me get my textbooks for Exorcism and Phobomancy. I believe you and Harry both signed up, Ron?"

"There's no choice in the matter," Ron said, "If you're in the Hawkbane program, you've got to take it if it's labeled as an Advanced course."

Harry sighed. "I take it both Exorcism and Phobomancy are Advanced?"

"Very much so!" Hermione said, grinning. "Exorcism isn't even taught in Wizarding Universities anymore, and Phobomancy material is rather hard to come by." She let Ron and Harry take a look at the books. "I spent the day with Dr. Hemlock to see if I could go on and purchase the books we'll probably be using in class. This is the only true textbook on Exorcism available at this time, so I'm SURE this is what Fallowin plans on using. As for the Phobomancy textbook, it was one of Dr. Hemlock's books to begin with, and she already knew Lycaon Fenrir…so there's a very good chance that he'll use one of her books in that class." She laughed and said, "Sure, her writing seems quite monstrous, but after hanging out with her, she's so much nicer than the media portrays her…it's like spending time with a crazy great-aunt."

Ron picked up the Exorcism book and groaned. "I really don't see why we're going to need to know this stuff. There's nothing that sounds quite as boring as Exorcism. I mean, listen to this book title…'**Sacred Enigma, Exorcism.**' Honestly, you'd think Fallowin would have picked something more appealing…like reviving the old Animagery course!"

"Furrier's the only one suitable for teaching that class," Hermione said, "but Celia told me that she wants to bring Animagery back to Hogwarts once she's old enough to start teaching."

"Good for her," Harry said, looking at the Phobomancy book. "'**Unleashing the Darkness, Phobomancy I**,'"he blinked for a moment and said, "Hermione, I thought that you thought Dr. Hemlock was freaky."

"I think that her _writings_ are freaky and that _she_ looks freaky, but she's a sweetheart," Hermione said. "I think she might have softened with age. However, I do know that she's no Gilderoy Lockhart; either she has experience in what she writes, or she does enough research to master it herself by the time she's done writing it."

"I heard she disowned her only son," Ron said, "yeah, very nice lady."

"Her son joined the Death Eaters, and I think that's WHY she disowned him," Hermione argued back.

"So," said Neville, interrupting the group. "Who do you think you'll like better, Professor Fallowin or Professor Fenrir?"

"Probably Fenrir," Ron said, "because at least Phobomancy is _interesting_. It's scary, but interesting. Besides, he seemed to be nice enough when I spoke with him at the Yule Ball."

"Same here," Hermione said. "There's no way I'm going to feel comfortable being taught Exorcism by someone that had spent THAT long in Azkaban, whether he's innocent or not. Sure, Sirius would have been different, but I don't know Professor Fallowin."

"Fallowin all the way," Harry said, being the only one to make that statement. "I've already met both professors, and I must say that Aurelius Fallowin is much more likable than Lycaon Fenrir."

"I beg to differ," said Hermione.

"Oh well," Neville said, "both sounded sort of scary in my opinion. One class is going to deal with how to vanquish evil spirits and demons, and the other one is going to show us how to torture people by playing with their worst fears."

"And you think Phobomancy will be interesting, Ron?" Hermione snapped.

"Doesn't that sound interesting?" Ron asked.

Neville took a bite out of a muffin. "We'll soon find out…we've got Alchemy, Exorcism, Charms, and Phobomancy on our agenda today."

After breakfast, Harry walked with Neville, Hermione, and Ron to Turret Six for Alchemy with Juno Lethe. The classroom was filled with amulets, and smelled very strongly of burnt incense sticks. The wrought iron was still all over the walls, and the color scheme was the same, but something was a bit different about the pewter-and-tourmaline Alchemy room…glass fairy orbs were floating about with the planetary symbols on each one of them.

"Welcome back to Turret Six, Sixth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins," Lethe said, her eyes shifting around the room nervously. "I trust each and every one of you had a good winter holiday?"

"Yes, Professor Lethe," the class said in unison.

"Did any of you find what I requested you to bring to class today…a chalcedony stone?' asked Lethe.

"I couldn't afford it," said Ron. "It turned out that chalcedony was considered a semiprecious gem."

"Well, we only need five or six of them," Lethe said smoothly. "Alright, everyone that has some…hand it over to me so we can begin."

Everybody that had purchased small chalcedony stones—which totaled up to around fifteen students—handed them over to Lethe obediently, and waited to see what she was going to do with the pseudo-jewels.

"Am I expecting too much out of this crowd, or did some of you get curious and research chalcedony to see what the great Albertus Magnus had to say about its powers?"

"It cures depression," said Rhianna, "but I didn't read that in a book; Professor Ahsimal told me what Albertus Magnus said about chalcedony when he noticed my earrings were chalcedony."

"Go figure," said Lethe. "He tends to do that."

"I mean," Rhianna interrupted, "I didn't mind him looking, but when I told him that my earrings were Peruvian chalcedony, he said, 'Oh! Did you know that Albertus Magnus said chalcedony cured depression?'"

"He was correct in telling you that," Lethe said, rolling her shoulders back. Harry and a few people up close could hear them make a very faint grating noise for a moment. She pointed up to the fairy orbs and said, "Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto…these are the nine planets of our solar system, as Professors Snitchgrass and Sinistra covered with you in Astrology and Astronomy already."

"You mean to tell me that the planets are involved in Alchemy _as well_?" Malfoy blurted, sounding rather disappointed. "That takes the fun right out of this course, Professor Lethe."

"For homework, you'll all be assigned a celestial body to study, and bring in as many facts as possible," Lethe said, "and tell me what its corresponding metal is. For example, Mercury has mercury, the Sun has gold, the Moon has silver, and Venus has copper."

"What would it be for Uranus?" asked Neville.

"How about I assign you to Uranus and you tell me what its corresponding metal is for our next class, Longbottom?" Lethe said, a smirk on her face. "Anyways, back to the chalcedony…"

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The entire Alchemy session was like that, except for the couple of experiments Lethe showed the class about what the jewel was capable of doing in magic.

"That went well," Ron said. "She usually panics whenever something weird happens, like that time a crow landed on the windowsill and cawed for a minute or two. Don't you remember the way Lethe started screaming that the gorgonix had probably made another kill, since crows were some sort of death omen?"

"I didn't look much into it," said Marcus, joining in the conversation, "because Juno Lethe, nice as she may be, is a real scaredy cat. I bet she's even afraid of her own shadow."

"That wouldn't surprise me either," replied Ron. "Heh…scaredy cat."

"You need to quit picking on poor Professor Lethe!" Hermione snapped. "She's trying as hard as she can in that class to make it interesting!"

"It's not like you really like her that much, though," Ron said, "I've heard you talk trash about her behind her back as well. Stop being a hypocrite." After that, he had something else he wanted to say to Hermione, something on a nicer note, "But, I'm just wondering…where are we supposed to go for Exorcism?"

"McGonagall didn't tell you?" Hermione asked Ron. "She didn't tell me either."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," said Ron . "Harry, do you know?"

"Not a clue, mate," Harry said, walking around. "I think it's—"

"Turret Nine," said a voice that Harry and everyone else recognized immediately.

Harry's jaw dropped from surprise, as did those of Ron, Hermione, Marcus, and all the other Hogwarts students that heard it. A gaunt girl with sallow skin, dark eyes, glasses, and messy black hair came out in uniform, with a Slytherin robe. "Cassandra?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. "How did you get out of Azkaban?"

"The Minister of Magic pardoned me," Cassandra said, shrugging her bony shoulders. "Cornelius Fudge read that editorial letter my kid brother put in the Daily Prophet about me, and I guess it just touched him. I'm just glad to be out of that hellhole and back at school."

"It's strange," said Ron, "we all missed you, I believe. Classes haven't been the same without our resident spooky girl lurking in the shadows."

The students—Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins alike—applauded and dragged Cassandra into the group heading up to Turret Nine for the new Exorcism class. The look on Cassandra's drastically thinned face wasn't one of content, but one of shock; it was as if she detested all the attention she was getting. "How about you tell us about Azkaban and your way back here on the way to Fallowin's new class?"

"I don't think so," Cassandra said bitterly. "I want things to be the way they used to be, where people didn't treat me like some sort of cock-eyed heroine." She looked at the large crowd and said, "If I hadn't gone to Azkaban, most of you wouldn't have even greeted me, even if I had addressed you first."

She clutched her books to her chest tightly, and Harry paid close attention to how emaciated his friend's body appeared. It was as if he could see Cassandra's skeleton underneath her thinned skin. A smile curled up on her face weakly as she turned toward Hermione and said, "Thank you for the Pyromantic messages and letters you sent me. I really appreciated getting those every week."

"You sent her letters?" Ron asked Hermione. "But I thought you didn't like Cassandra!"

"I thought she was a little scary," Hermione corrected, "but I made friends with her, at least after I realized she was on our side. She has mentioned to me how important she felt it was to do what she did, and I must say that I have to agree. Harry, Parenein would have killed you if she hadn't killed him first." Hermione grinned and said, "Cassandra, we're all so glad you're back here with us, and it's a real pity you had to go through that whole ordeal."

"I don't want to talk about what went on in there," Cassandra said sharply, "_ever_." With those words, she opened the door to Turret Nine. On the door was a plaque that read "_Carpe Diem,_" and another that read "_We're All Mad Here,_" underneath it. "How about you guys help me catch up at lunch, after we finish up in here?"

"I'd love to," Harry said, sighing. "Just don't pull a stunt like that again."

"Believe me," Cassandra said, a Snape-like smirk appearing on her wan face. "I won't."

The Exorcism classroom in Turret Nine looked very welcoming. Aurelius had put a bunch of paintings in the room to liven it up, but since the tower had been virtually abandoned until he had arrived, the room was still covered in dust and cobwebs. Several plaques with quirky sayings were on the walls, as well as medals, trophies, portraits, more paintings, and band posters. Harry felt at ease in the classroom.

"Why, hi there everyone!" Aurelius shouted. Harry, and the other students, couldn't find him.

"Hello, Professor Fallowin," said Cassandra, looking very serious. "But now you've gotten me curious; where are you?"

"I'm right in front of you," Aurelius said to the entire class. "You can't see me?" When everyone shook their heads to indicate they didn't see him, he snapped his fingers…and there he was, standing before the class in his new professors' robes. Compared to how he'd looked when Morty and Darius had broken him out of Azkaban, Aurelius looked very good, and the robes made him look just a bit more mischievous. "Can you see me now?" The class nodded. "Good! That's enough of _that_, so why don't we move on to something for our first lesson?"

"Don't you need us to tell you our names?" asked Malfoy, folding his arms. "The other teachers did that."

"But I'm not the other teachers," Aurelius said. "Your names are on my roll, and I'll eventually learn each and every one…or at least most of them. It's not a big deal about names. What's more important is making sure you guys and gals know how to protect yourself from demons, evil spirits, and corrosive psyches; and I also want to show you how to vanquish those entities from a possessed person, because you never know who'll end up with some other mind stuck in them."

Ron began to fake-cough and let the word "Quirrell" escape his lips through it. Hermione snickered a bit, and so did Harry. "Excuse me," Ron said, knowing that very few people caught his joke. Cassandra looked at him funny, but shrugged it off.

"You're a Weasley, I can tell!" Aurelius said. "Am I correct in saying so?"

"Yes," Ron said, nodding. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes," Aurelius said, smirking. "But be warned; someone a little less observant could mistake you for being a Fenrir. You've got the same complexion as your Phobomancy teacher."

"Cool," Ron said, taking his seat.

"Well, enough of this," Aurelius said. "Let me show you how to do something before you have to go to Charms class." He tapped the top of a desk with his wand and said, "Quick! Explain the difference between a gorgonix and a hellion!"

"A gorgonix fears a strong aura and a good Exorcist," Hermione said, trying to contribute.

"Hellions are much more discreet and harder to detect because they gradually work their way into obviousness," Cassandra said. "A gorgonix begins immediately, but the worst thing about hellions is their supernatural sense of patience." She grinned and said, "I got to talk to a guy with a hellion in him a month ago."

"Lovely anecdote," Aurelius said blandly, and Harry could tell that the fellow didn't really care to hear more about Cassandra's encounter with the possessed. "Well, we'll take a brief look at something in your Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and then I think I'm supposed to let you go. Today's for introduction, since some sort of assembly's being held and it's been cut short…"

"What page, Professor Fallowin?" asked Lisa.

"Page 816," Aurelius said, "the Cycle of Possession. What I want everyone to do is study this, because I think I'm going to have a quiz on it next time we come in here."

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Exorcism, the Assembly, and Charms went by smoothly; Flitwick insisted on just going over the material and having a review of the previous semester, so there really wasn't any pressure. Hermione and Cassandra argued about whether or not a particular Charm was worth the trouble of using, and Flitwick had encouraged the rest of the class to listen as if it were a debate team. A few more Welcome Back words were said, and then class was dismissed.

"Well, Exorcism was cool," Ron said, walking with Harry and Hermione. "I think I'll like Fallowin."

"He's already a pretty good friend," Harry said, "but I think that maybe he should have gotten a career as an Exorcist instead of trying to teach it to us. Sure, I'm interested in knowing how to evict demons and evil spirits from people, but I doubt too many other people even consider it. Like Aurelius said before one time, the career of an Exorcist is in high demand because the interest rate in the younger crowd is at an all-time low."

"I wonder why," Hermione said sarcastically. "It's a scary career, and an easy way to get possessed."

"It's not a bad career," Cassandra said, walking up to them. "My mum's new boyfriend is an Exorcist and he probably makes more money than Lucius Malfoy." She then grinned and said, "But I doubt I'll be an Exorcist. I'm aspiring to become a Necromancer."

"Are you still thinking about being an Auror, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry didn't really know how to quickly respond to that one. His grades weren't the best in the world, and there were now some other career options he thought would be interesting—like being an Exorcist—so what was he supposed to say? "Yeah," he said, "but I'm not quite sure it's what I'm going to stick with."

"No harm in that," Ron replied, laughing. "I'm thinking about going into the Ministry of Magic. Who knows? I might even replace Cornelius Fudge one of these days."

"I could see you being a teacher," Cassandra said to Hermione. "You've got that air to you."

"Oh, really?" Hermione sounded flattered. "Well, Cassandra, what class could you see me teaching?"

"History of Magic," Cassandra said. "Professor Binns is eventually going to cross over, I'm sure of that, and someone with a loud and obnoxious voice should take his place."

Ron sniggered a bit and then Harry heard him whisper to Cassandra, "Good one."

"I was being serious," Cassandra said, smirking. "Couldn't YOU see her as a teacher?"

Turret Seven was filled with Hawkbane students and other random Sixth Years interested in learning about the Magic of Fears. Harry looked around to see what Lycaon Fenrir had done to his room. Articles from the Nightly Oracle were on a Ravenclaw-blue bulletin board. Framed photos of a woman Harry only guessed was Ariel Rookwood, Fenrir's late wife, seemed to be everywhere on his desk with black candles. A wrought iron chandelier with sapphire-blue crystals was above the heads of everyone, and some blue-and-bronze streamers were being hung from it and attached to the walls, like some sort of parody on a maypole. A small corner of the room was left untouched, but a picture of Sebastian Argentum was hung on the wall of that area. As Harry looked up, he was disgusted; little dead animals were being left up there to dry out with some pale herbs. An enormous bookcase took up the entire back wall, and it was overstuffed with Phobomancy and Dr. Hemlock books. One other thing caught Harry's attention; Fenrir had put posters from Muggle Heavy Metal bands in frames and hung them. The faces of Robert Plant and Ozzy Osbourne seemed to leer at the Hogwarts students, unfamiliar to a majority of them.

"When's he going to show up?" Hermione whispered. "He's late for his own class!"

Harry rolled his eyes, then shrugged. "Maybe he just needed to stop by the bathroom." He peeked a bit in his textbook, got a bit grossed out, so then decided to see how many Led Zeppelin posters Fenrir had placed in the room.

The boredom of staring at walls for Harry didn't last long, nor did it stay for the other students. The lights suddenly went out, and the door slammed shut. A couple of girls screamed, and then there was an evil-sounding laugh.

"Stay in your seats unless you want to be marked absent," said the rough voice Harry recognized as Lycaon Fenrir immediately. Fenrir snapped his fingers and the candles lit themselves once more. Yet again, a couple of people let out squeaks of surprise. "You'll need to get used to that," he said in a slightly arrogant tone. "If something this harmless freaks you out, I shudder to think what will happen when I start what I call the Nightmare Unit."

Harry looked behind to see how Cassandra, Ron, and Hermione were taking all of this. Ron was about as pale as Darius and looked very terrified. Hermione was squirming in her seat, looking very nervous. As for Cassandra, she sat with almost perfect posture and had a wide-eyed expression on her face that Harry took to mean she was already engrossed in Phobomancy. Once he got a look at the smile she was throwing at Fenrir, a delighted-to-be-here smile, knew that anybody that would provoke his friend would be in for a horrible surprise.

"Anyway," Fenrir said, "we will not be doing anything today except paying _close_ attention to a demonstration I will give about what you _should_ be able to do after a semester in here. Now, if you _stay_ with this class, you'll be able to do far worse damage. Before I begin, I would like to tell you a few things about myself." Neville raised his hand in the back. "Yes? What is it?"

"Do you want to know anything about us?" Neville asked nervously.

"I'll figure out a lot about each and every one of you once you finish your homework assignment; a survey that I personally created four years ago when my newspaper became well-known throughout Britain." Fenrir looked very bored as he passed a five-sheet survey to each and every student. "Have this filled out before our next class, and the turn-in deadline is tomorrow at eight o' clock, not a second later. I'm like your Clairvoyancy professor, Alexander Furrier, when it comes to deadlines. For each hour it is late, I shall take five points off the grade. Do you understand that, children?"

"Yes, Professor Fenrir," said the students timidly.

"Good," Fenrir said, tapping his foot. "Now how about I present my little demo?" Cassandra and a few people looked delighted and eager to see what Fenrir was going to do, but almost everyone looked as if they didn't care if Fenrir waited until the Apocalypse to begin. "May I have a volunteer come forward?" Harry sat tightly in his seat, trying his best not to get noticed. "Potter, are you feeling gutsy today?"

"No, sir," Harry said, knowing what kind of person Fenrir was. "But Malfoy looks like he really wants to go up there and be your guinea pig."

"No, I—"

"Brilliant!" Fenrir said, cutting off Malfoy's protest and dragging the reluctant Slytherin up to the front. "Now, class, I'm sure this is going to be fun for me, but I'm sure it'll scare the crap out of each and every one of you. I don't care HOW brave the Headmaster tells you that you are…I'm sure I can make you wet your pants in fear. If not now, then eventually."

"I'm already scared," Neville whispered to Harry. "I want to go back to Exorcism."

"NO TALKING WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!" Fenrir snarled, jumping on desk-tops until he reached Neville's desk. That type of movement coming from a middle-aged professor surprised several students, and caused a few squeaks of shock. Fenrir pointed a finger at Neville's throat and poked him. "Understand me?"

"Yes…yes, sir," Neville said, terrified.

Fenrir got off the desk and grinned, patting the top of Neville's head. "Good boy." He straightened up, and twirled his wand like a baton for a moment. "Malfoy, do you need a moment to brace yourself?"

"No, sir," Malfoy said, looking rather pale. Harry could tell that his adversary was already afraid of what the Phobomancy professor was going to do to him. "I'm…ready…I guess." He pulled out his wand, and then—

"You're not going to need your wand for this demonstration, Malfoy," Fenrir instructed. "Give it to one of your friends to hold onto during this session. Now, here's a choice for you…before I pry out your phobia—that's where the term Phobomancy comes from, by the way. Everyone! Write that down because it's going to come back as a test question!—do you want other people to view it as well, or would you rather do this so that you're the only one that can see it?"

"I—"

"I know!" Fenrir said, interrupting Malfoy yet again. "We'll take a vote. Class, do you want to see what it is that your pretty-boy classmate is afraid of?"

"I'd love to see that, Professor Fenrir," Cassandra said blandly, but Harry could see that slightly malicious spark of energy in her eyes. It was apparent that his friend was having the time of her life in Phobomancy, and was eager to see what would happen to Malfoy.

"I'd enjoy seeing him squirm," Ron said, laughing. "Please let us see what he's scared of!"

"At least two hands are raised in favor," Fenrir said, turning back to Malfoy. "So…it's time for me to try my spell." He mumbled a rather long and complex-sounding spell under his breath, and began to levitate in the air. A glowing blue smoke seemed to issue out of him, but Harry couldn't tell where it was coming from. Fenrir foamed a bit at the mouth, and his eyes rolled back to the whites as he raised up his wand and shouted, "_Terrifus!_"

There was a sound similar to thunder, and then the strangest thing happened; a very beautiful woman had appeared in the room…Harry recognized her as Portia Cyanis. Just one look at that pretty face caused Malfoy to blanche in terror, and he began to hyperventilate a bit as Portia kept coming closer and closer to him, removing her white golf gloves to reveal dainty hands with painted nails. Harry didn't see anything horrific about this image, and apparently neither did Fenrir and a few other people. However, there were several Slytherins—as well as a number of Gryffindors—who screamed as they cast their eyes on Portia.

"It's not real, Malfoy," Fenrir sneered. "You've got to believe it's fake unless you WANT to get hurt."

"M-make her go away, P-professor Fenrir," Malfoy pleaded, backing up into a corner. He had his wand pointed at Portia. "Leave me alone!"

Suddenly, Harry saw _why_ Malfoy had been terrified of the delicate-looking beauty; Portia's eyes let out a small green spark, and then her teeth all became needle-sharp…Malfoy screamed very loudly as Portia started racing toward him, her teeth bared. He looked frantically toward the new teacher. "How do you make it go away?"

"Either I disillusion you, or you force yourself to believe that this is just a nightmarish prank I pulled on you," Fenrir stated calmly. "Now, how about I—HEY!" he snarled, looking around the room. "WHY ARE ALL OF YOU GETTING OUT OF YOUR SEATS! YOU'RE NOT DISMISSED FOR ANOTHER HOUR; WE'RE JUST GETTING STARTED!"

But it was too late. Harry, Malfoy, and practically all the students in the Phobomancy class—except for Cassandra, who looked quite delighted to be in there—had run out of that room, not even courageous enough to look back and apologize to Lycaon Fenrir, their angry professor.

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_Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed the return of our beloved Cassandra! I know you all wanted her to come back, so here she is. This is an interesting class, isn't it? Phobomancy...Ahhh! Please read and review and let me know what you all think so far! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed up to this point. I'm sorry I haven't been answering you all personally, but I will have my friend who is posting this story for me to answer you all. And to everyone who has read and not reviewed, I do appreciate the fact that you have read the story. Please leave a review, to let me know how things are going!_

_Take care all, and I'll see you soon! Professor Skylarke_


	32. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One:

The Undead Rights of the Von Dorian Clan

"I can't believe you and everybody else walked out of Phobomancy class today," Cassandra told Harry, looking very surprised at dinner. "I mean, even if you were scared out of your mind, why did you and everybody else run out of the classroom? Things became much more interesting after Professor Fenrir made the Portia Cyanis hallucination go away." She grinned evilly, looking like her old slightly-sinister self once more. "He even showed me how to mutter that same incantation." She put a piece of medium-rare meat in her mouth and began to chew, a bit of blood oozing out of it. "What I don't get is why everybody was afraid of Portia. She's harmless."

"You mean you _really_ don't know?" Ron interrupted Cassandra, waving his fork at her. "Are you blind or something? SHE'S A LAMIA!"

"So what?" Cassandra said, shrugging her bony shoulders. "So's my mum."

"Yeah, well, your mum's not evil," Hermione pointed out. "In fact, she seems to be very sophisticated and I know she's a great hostess. Around Christmas time, she was gracious enough to allow Ron, Harry, and me to stay at the Lair instead of paying for a room in one of the taverns."

"That sounds like Mum alright," Cassandra said, writing something down in her journal.

"What are you writing in there?" Ron asked. "Homework?"

"Not even close," Cassandra said, putting more ink on the pages. Her slightly-greasy, black hair brushed the top of the paper, and her mildly-hooked nose managed to cover a little bit as well.

"This is something completely non-academic that I started once I was put in Cell 999." She pulled her hair into a very sloppy ponytail and handed the notebook over to Ron. "It's a comic strip."

Ron took a look at the pages of the cartoon for a moment and soon began to laugh. "Harry! Hermione! You guys have GOT to see this…Cassandra even put US in here!"

"What's your cartoon about?" Hermione asked Cassandra.

"Oh, nothing in particular," Cassandra said, cleaning her glasses with a part of her robe. "I just thought I'd jot down some of our funnier and more memorable misadventures from this year."

"This one is about the time you introduced us to Beastie!" Hermione said rather loudly as she peered over the paper to see what had made Ron laugh so hard. "Good Lord…you even put the part in there where Josh told Beastie he didn't know when the bell was going to ring, and then Beastie proved him wrong! Do you have to remember EVERYTHING that vividly?"

Harry finally managed to pry Cassandra's notebook away from Ron and Hermione so he could take a look at it for himself. And there it was, in Cassandra's spidery handwriting, the entire account of the first encounter with the Beast in the Bowl. The cartoon style Cassandra had decided to do her comic strips in looked very impressive, but was by far not the most difficult style to attempt. After reading about Beastie, he went to the front of the cartoon, and noticed that Cassandra had not only drawn herself, but she had drawn him, as well as Ron, Hermione, Josh, Celia, Atticus, Darius, Snape, Snitchgrass, and Beastie…all for that one cartoon.

"How many people from school have you drawn in your cartoon so far?" Instead of getting a full-fledged answer, Harry only managed to get a shrug from Cassandra, whose mouth was filled with juicy steak. He returned the notebook to its rightful owner and sighed. "It's pretty funny, and rather entertaining."

"It could be funnier," added Cassandra. Harry was glad that she'd caught on to what he was about to tell her, hoping not to hurt her feelings.

"No, it couldn't!" Ron argued. "That's true humor right there! If you were to publish an entire book filled with nothing but comics like this one, I'd buy it in a heartbeat, if I had the money to do so." He grinned and said, "It's great to know that our Grim Reaper has a funny side."

"If you can't bring yourself to laugh, you're going to do nothing but cry," Cassandra said in a rather distant voice. "Another inmate told me that, so I took her wisdom to heart." She grabbed her books and said, "Well, I'm going to visit Darius and see how he's doing."

"You missed his Christmas attire," Ron said. "He's been even more of a cross-dresser since you were arrested. I think he's beginning to come a bit more out of the closet."

"Your uncle really was worried about you," Hermione said. "If somebody so much as mentioned your name, he'd harp at them until tears were shed by the speaker." Somehow, to Harry, this was rather entertaining; he couldn't help but laugh. "What's so funny, Harry?"

"That struck me funny because I was one of the people who asked him how Cassandra was doing," Harry said, laughing even louder. He was a bit embarrassed about it, but he couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried. The dimming lights of the table candles began to glow a bit strangely as the flames became a greenish color for a brief moment. Harry abruptly stopped laughing, and focused his attention on the closest candle. Cassandra was staring at the candle, an enigmatic emerald glow in her eyes that Harry had seen a couple of times before matched the same luminescent shade as the candle flames. "Cassandra, are you alright?"

Much to Harry's displeasure, Cassandra didn't answer. Instead, she just got up, her face seemingly frozen into an emotionless mask, and walked rather mechanically out of the Great Hall and toward the Slytherin Dormitories. "What's gotten into HER?" Ron asked. "Just a moment ago, she was sharing her comic with us, and then she just walks off without a word?"

"Hypnosis," Hermione theorized.

"No…Cassandra's too tough to let that poison her mind," Ron argued. "If she can handle how we fellow students have treated her, I bet Professor Cyanis is a piece of cake."

"I thought you didn't like her," Hermione said, her eyes darting at Ron.

"I never said that," Ron argued. "I like her as a friend, but I think she's a little scary."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione seriously, wanting them to change the subject. "Hermione, can you tell us what's going on with the candles?"

"The green luminescence in fire is an indication that a slain vampire of great power has returned to the world of the Living," Hermione said. "Oh dear; that sounds more like something Cassandra would have said than me…but she hasn't been herself lately, so…er…"

"A great vampire, Hermione? How do you measure greatness amongst vampires?" Ron asked. "Besides, who would be important enough to—"

"Sargon Von Dorian," Harry interrupted. "I know he's way up there with the elite, and if you ever listened to Darius's little sob stories in Necromancy class, you'd know that Sargon died years ago. Reading about him and hearing about him gives me the idea that he may have been the leader of the Von Dorian clan until he died."

"Now it's that Lawrence Von Dorian guy, right? The one Professor Talus keeps swooning over and the one that makes Professor Lethe jealous?" Ron asked. "Isn't he that Lawrence guy?"

"Yes, Ron," Harry said. "And he really seems to be a friend of Rhianna and Blaise. Maybe they'd know about this return?"

"Great thinking, Harry!" Hermione said, smiling. "We should ask them as soon as we can."

"Speaking of the devils," Ron said, pointing over to the Slytherin table. "There they are."

"Blaise! Rhianna!" Harry shouted across the tables. "Could you come over here?"

"Sure," Blaise said, scooting next to Hermione.

"So…what's on your mind?" Rhianna asked Harry.

"Green fire in candles," Hermione bluntly stated. "Do you know anything about what that means, Rhianna?"

"Yeah," Rhianna said, yawning. "Sheesh, I'm tired…but…anyway…it means that a very powerful and well-respected vampire has returned to life."

"The Von Dorian clan has begun Resurrecting Sargon," Blaise stated calmly. "At least, that's what Cassandra and Lawrence have told Rhi and me." He turned to Rhianna and said, "You know…the next largest holiday coming up is Valentine's Day…"

"So what?" Rhianna asked, not exactly catching on to what Blaise was trying to tell her. "Oh well. Come on, Blaise; there's a piece of chocolate cake over there I want to seize before Crabbe or Goyle gets it!" She dragged her friend along with her back to the Slytherin table and laid claim to the dessert. Blaise simply watched Rhianna eat the cake in sheer pleasure.

"So it IS true!" Hermione said to herself. "I'm not going to bed at a decent hour tonight."

"Why?" Ron asked, a bit confused about what Hermione meant. "Afraid of the dark?"

"No…" Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "that'd be stupid. I'm not going to sleep until much later tonight because I'm going to be in the Special Interest Library to look up some more about what it was exactly that made Sargon Von Dorian an important figure in vampiric history--"

"Couldn't you ask Cassandra about that?" Harry asked. "I mean, it would be a lot quicker."

"She's family," Hermione argued, "so she might alter facts." With that, she was up from the table and heading to the Special Interest Library on the Third Floor. "Hey, Phoebus!"

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Defense Against the Dark Arts was the second class period for the next day, and Harry was very glad to be back in there, with a stable professor teaching the course. From previous lessons, he knew how thoroughly Dr. Hemlock covered the course. From all the teachers he'd had in this particular class, this aging lady seemed to be the one who knew the most about what she was doing.

"So, then you want to take a can of salt," Dr. Hemlock said, "And make a salt circle around yourself to protect you from the curse of a lamia. Professor Fallowin should be teaching you this in Exorcism in a few weeks, since it does the same thing for evil spirits and minor demons. And that, my students, is where we will pick up next time in here, since I have been rambling on about this—expecting you to take notes—for nearly seventy minutes. I'm about to lose my voice from talking so long, and I'm sure your hands are as tired as my poor old throat."

"But isn't this a mere superstition?" Hermione posed. "I think everyone has heard of salt circles, but do they actually work?"

"Of course they do," Dr. Hemlock answered. "My very life was saved by a can of smelling salts about a decade ago." She turned to the class and smiled, showing off her carnivorously sharp teeth. "Alright," she said calmly, "now that we've finished covering what we needed to cover today, how many of you signed up for Phobomancy?" Almost everyone raised a hand. "How many of you are brave enough to plan _staying_ in that class?"

Only Cassandra raised her hand, which made Dr. Hemlock laugh a bit. "Oh, you sissies…Phobomancy isn't all that bad once you get into it. If you like, I can show you how to block Phobomancy-related illusions from your mind in Defense Against the Dark Arts…since Phobomancy may be considered a Dark Art. So…what do you have to say about that?"

There were roars of approval for Dr. Hemlock, who in turn forced a smile back. "Well, I'm glad you think of me like that and don't hate me as much as your professor in here from _last_ year."

"It's because you're a great teacher," Hermione said, "and you don't mind teaching us defenses that we're really going to need to know how to use." She then pointed a finger at Dr. Hemlock, "But don't think we disliked Professor Nezura. She was very good as well, but she liked to wander off topic a bit too much."

"I want this course to be educational," Dr. Hemlock stated, "but I also want it to be practical and useful. What's the point in having a Defense Against the Dark Arts course if the material taught won't protect you from what's out there? I think that's pretty pointless. Education should be useful and applied to the real world. Not everyone plays by the rules, so I should be giving you some more realistic scenarios in class."

"You're right," Cassandra added, but the bell rang at that moment. "See you later, then, Dr. Hemlock. I'll see you about the Minotaur tutorial at seven-thirty…have a great day."

"Oh, I shall," said Dr. Hemlock, looking out the window. "I really shall."

"She's such a nice lady," Hermione said happily. "I really like staying in her room after school because she loves peace and quiet just as much as I do."

"Did she tell you about her little scheme?" Cassandra asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Scheme? Dr. Hemlock?" Ron said. "No…"

"Some of her students from the Salem Academy of Sorcery are going to be coming into the Hawkbane program," Cassandra said, "and one of them, Aarel Graven, is the son of one of my mum's good friends. I've met Aarel, very witty fellow, but it's been a few years since I saw him."

"So Hogwarts is going to have some American students?" asked Ron.

"Apparently so," Hermione said excitedly. "Isn't the Salem Academy an honors school?"

"From what Dr. Hemlock has told me about this school—which she funds even more-so than Hogwarts and Durmstrang—the Third Years there have already covered more material than our Seventh Years have," Cassandra flatly said. "I wanted to go there, but my mum complained that it was too far away and she thought I'd be better off at Hogwarts so Severus could keep an eye on me." She scowled and said, "I ran away from home one time, and now Mum doesn't want me unsupervised, no matter where I go." She turned to Harry and said, "Mum thinks the world of you; I think she's more proud of you than me."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"I was a wizarding college's dream student until I got in trouble with the law," Cassandra said grimly, "and now I'll just be happy if the Albertus Magnus University accepts my application, scholarship or not. I mean, my grades are good, but now whenever my name is used on a transcript, Azkaban will be the first thing that pops into their mind…and then the word 'vampire'."

"Er…" Harry said, trying to change the subject before Cassandra became even drearier. "Did Dr. Hemlock tell you when the Salem students would be coming to Hogwarts, Cassandra?"

"We were discussing that at last night's Nem—" Cassandra cut herself off in mid-sentence, and looked down at the Nemesarist's Ring on her left middle finger. "Er…"

"What's 'Nem'?" Ron and Hermione asked, very confused.

"Necromancy Intelligence Meeting," Cassandra answered rather quickly in a nervous fit. Harry knew that she was about to say 'Nemesarium', but it was apparent Ron and Hermione were both satisfied with the fire-quick lie the quirky Slytherin concocted. "Dr. Hemlock and I have both been going to these with a few other people for quite a while. But, she just brought up the topic of the transfer students while we were in the middle of tea. I _did_ ask her when they'll be arriving, and she said it would be some time this week."

"That'd be neat," Ron said; "I've heard American girls can be real hotties."

"Ron!" Hermione scowled at her friend, "You're still dating Isis." Ron shrugged, but said nothing in reply. "You're unbelievable!" Ron and Hermione walked off into their own tangent, leaving Harry along with Cassandra for a few seconds.

"I know what you were about to say," Harry said, whispering in Cassandra's ear. "It was a great save for Nemesarium; good cover-up."

"Thanks," Cassandra said, "you'd be surprised how many Americans are interested in the foreign exchange program." She whispered the number in Harry's ear, which caused his jaw to practically drop. "Well, I can't exactly stay here…I've got to see Darius about something—"

"Does this involve Sargon Von Dorian?" asked Harry. Cassandra said nothing, but she did stare at Harry in a very strange way as she silently walked, backwards, out of his sight. Not only did that thoroughly creep him out, but it also made Harry more aware of how difficult vampires still had it in the modern world. Everything was sworn to secrecy, and certain secrets never surfaced with full human beings. Perhaps that was the reason for Cassandra's disturbing eccentricity.

"Weirdo," said a voice from behind a corner. Harry peered around to find Ebonyste. "I heard the whole thing, Potter. That girl's really up to no good."

"Of course you'd say that," Harry said, "you're a Slayer."

"Yeah, well," Ebonyste said, his ears twitching, "I've got good reason to be one. vampires are bad company, lad. They're not the worst, but they're far from being the best. Now, Cassandra seems to usually be a pretty nice girl, but you really must keep an eye on her…like I've been doing ever since she came back from Azkaban." He beckoned for Harry to come closer. "Look at these…I used to be a P.I. in Miami before I began teaching up here, so I _really_ know how to use a spy-camera." He handed Harry a pile of photographs, and when Harry looked at them, he couldn't believe his eyes. "Isn't this strange?" Ebonyste asked, sounding a bit concerned.

Harry really was having trouble seeing the photos Ebonyste had taken. In one of them, Cassandra was out in the woods, slaying unicorns with a pocketknife. In another one, she was using a Blistering Hex on Steve Goldman, Josh's harmless little brother. In yet another, she was threatening Professor Lethe, looking as if she were about to bite him/her. Picture after picture showed Cassandra doing some rather unpleasant things to other people. "These are real?" he asked.

"Yup," Ebonyste said calmly. "Like I said, I've been using spy cameras to keep an eye on her every move. For all I know, she might be targeting another professor or student, just so we can say 'the gorgonix' made another kill." He leaned over toward his viewer, and breathed some spine-chilling words down Harry's neck. "Don't you get it? Cassandra Snape _is_ the gorgonix. I've figured it out, Potter…the killings stopped—except for the Lewn incident, but that murder was inevitable—when she was away. As soon as she returns, new professors with bad reputations come to Hogwarts…and now the swarm from Salem arrives in two days…"

"But…why would she…Cassandra's not that type of person…" Harry found himself saying. "Or is she?" He had a few doubts of Cassandra's guilt, but they were quickly dying and fading away into the absolute affirmation that the Slytherin girl was indeed the gorgonix. "Would you know, Professor Ebonyste?"

"Like I said," Ebonyste repeated, "I was once a Private Investigator. I'd think I'd know about these kinds of things, Potter. Besides, how else could you explain those pictures?"

"Forgery?" Harry feebly replied.

"No way, José," Ebonyste said, rolling his eyes. "These were taken with a run-of-the-mill disposable camera I bought at a CVS Pharmacy. They're all the real deal…and I think that the Undead Rights of the Von Dorian clan are getting to your little friend's head."

"Pardon?" Harry said, confused. "Undead Rights…what?"

"In the very late 1970's, there was this big uproar from the vampiric community, the Von Dorians especially, about wanting equal treatment. The patriarch of that campaign, called the Undead Rights Movement, was this pretty-boy Babylonian named Sargon Von Dorian, and he—along with that horrible fruitcake teaching you Necromancy—went so far as to hold protests out in the middle of Wizarding streets. It didn't end there…they even bit any unfortunate human who stood in their way. The Von Dorians were not to be taken lightly, so we Slayers went up against them. However, in 1980, Sargon Von Dorian was assassinated by yours truly. All seemed well for us decent witches and wizards, when Angelica Rhode, the Minister of Magic at that time, decided to grant all vampires the Undead Rights, given to them by the Von Dorian clan. So now, there are crucifix and non-crucifix zones, garlic hazards in all magical restaurants, fewer bits of silver in silverware—I don't see why we don't call it _tinware_ or _steelware_ now, with all the crap we used to replace the silver—and they can be photographed in stores when trying on outfits, since the mirrors won't work for them." Ebonyste seemed very annoyed with all that. "And at the same time, they still kept their snotty dispositions. As my dad used to always tell me, a zebra never changes its spots."

"Don't you mean stripes?" asked Harry.

"Whatever," Ebonyste replied. "Dad wasn't very bright."

"But…why did you keep track of Cassandra?"

"Something's off about that little oddball," Ebonyste stated, and had a look on his face that stated if Harry was going to argue, he might get punched by a half-fairy fist. "So I decided it would be wise to keep track of everything she does…since vampires are _prone_ to hurt people."

Harry looked at Ebonyste as if he were making a lot of sense, but then decided it would be smart to run off, before his last thoughts of doubt about Cassandra's guilt in this faded away. He walked around the corner, and could hear Ebonyste say, "Potter? Hey, where'd you go?", as he continued on his search for Cassandra…he wanted answers about these actions from the person who would know the most about them.

After walking through corridor after corridor, Harry realized where Cassandra was heading…Turret Thirteen, the Necromancy Tower. He rushed up the stairs as quietly as he could, and it seemed that Cassandra didn't hear him. She knocked on the tower door and Darius opened it. "Yes, Cassandra? What is it?" Darius asked sweetly. "Do you need to borrow some blood?"

"Not this time, Darius," Cassandra said in a monotone voice that creeped Harry out. "I am heading out with my clansmen to resurrect the true leader of the Von Dorian family…you are required to come as well."

"Even if I wasn't, I'd go," Darius said merrily, locking the Turret's door. He then walked out with Cassandra, a very excited expression on his white face. "Do you think I'll get to have my Sargon once more?"

"I guess so," Cassandra said, that green spark still lighting up in her eyes, like that candle. But, the trance seemed to be broken when she saw Harry. "Oh! Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Following you," Harry replied in a joking tone, although he was rather serious about this; he didn't want to alarm his friend too much.

"Is there any reason why, might I ask?" Cassandra asked, still looking very perplexed.

"I was curious about this Sargon Von Dorian guy," was the lie that issued out from Harry's mouth. Although he was slightly interested in the tales about Sargon, and what Darius and the Von Dorians had told him about this particular vampire, it wasn't why he was following; he wanted to keep a watch over Cassandra for a while, just in case she was the demon child Ebonyste had accused her of being only minutes ago. "Can I come along?"

"Humans can't go to these," Cassandra said, sounding slightly regretful, "but if they were allowed, I'd have been more than glad to let you come along. Sorry, Harry…but I could tell you all about it when I get back." With that, the two vampires walked off. "Hold on, Darius…we need to go get Professor Lethe. You bit her, right?"

"Yeah…I kinda nipped Juno after resurrecting her."

"And I'm sure she loves you for it," Cassandra sarcastically added. "THERE you are, Professor! I already checked Turret Six for you, and you weren't there. Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'm ever going to be for something vampire-related," Lethe said in a timid, scared voice. She tagged along behind Darius and Cassandra, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere else but here with her fellow blood-drinking undead.

Although it would be taboo to head to a vampiric ritual as a human, Harry felt he needed to observe. The invisibility cloak was in his bag, so he pulled it out and followed the vampires.

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"Thank you, everyone, for coming!" Lawrence Von Dorian shouted, standing on top of a fancy mausoleum in St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery. There were about ten thousand vampires in the cemetery, and all were dressed in very nice clothing…as if this were some sort of church gathering. "This Resurrection is LONG overdue for the greatest of the Von Dorians. With Sargon returning to us, I will step down as the childless patriarch of this clan and let Sargon take his rightful place. Very few of us remember Babylon, or earlier than that. I know I don't, since I'm only in my thirties." He looked at the crowd, and then pulled his hood down, revealing his bright green hair (which Harry just noticed glowed in the dark) and rose tattoo. "Why did you pick me, again?"

"You were selected by Sargon, Lawrence," said a voice Harry recognized as Lydia. "How many times do we have to go over this?"

"This is the last, I promise," Lawrence said, laughing. "So…everyone…let us sing our clan anthem before we begin on this dry, cool night."

Darius, Lethe, and the Von Dorians (Harry could even see Teiresias and Faust in the circle) joined together in a macabre-sounding song with a very alluring melody:

Sunlight seeps through loose thin drapes

I pull the curtains wide

In all the crevices it gapes

When suddenly let inside

Black to Grey, and Grey to White

All things now seem anew

The color schemes been changed by light

In the room it's flooded through

We close the drapes and away we hide

So fearful of the day

And we lock ourselves inside

Until the sun is tucked away

White to Grey, and Grey to Black

No more is the blazing sun

Of light, the night has no lack

When days beating rays are done

They dance, the stars, all night long

Around the glowing moon

Nocturnal beasts call out in song

That the sun is rising soon

Its burning arms stretch to the sky

And snatch away the stars

To place itself, so bright, on high

And stole the night we knew was ours

Into our home, a beating ray

Intruding, but shut away soon

We now must lock ourselves away

And save our love for the moon

In doing so, we close the blinds

Shutting out the light

So its rays will never find

We Renegades of Night

"Beautiful!" Darius cheered. "The last time we sang that together, everyone, was in the middle of the Undead Rights Movement…it's been quite some time."

'_How did Lethe know what to sing?_' Harry pondered, a bit confused; Juno Lethe had only been a vampire since her Resurrection, so unless Cassandra or Darius had been teaching her the song, there was no way she could have known it…or was there?

"It really has been a lot of fun, being the head of the clan," Lawrence said, "but I'd trade that in to get Sargon back. We have with us tonight, the one of us who was perhaps the closest to him…Darius Ahsimal, the world's best Necromancer."

"Oh, stop it," Darius said, walking up to the front. "You're making me blush." While Darius usually wore feminine clothing (and almost got away with it every time), he wasn't dressed accordingly this night. Instead, he was wearing the khaki cargo pants, the dragon-leather boots, and the black turtleneck Harry had first met him in. It was a bit peculiar to Harry…Darius looked the same, yet his body no longer looked slender and feminine, but lean and masculine. He stood on the mausoleum after Lawrence stepped down "Carpe Noctem, everyone!" he shouted happily. "Seize the night, since it IS ours for the taking…or rather…Sargon's!"

"Enough chit-chat," bellowed a rather large blonde vampire in the back. Harry took one glance at this "woman" and couldn't help but think she weighed at least three hundred pounds. "Get on with it, you fruitcake." The fat vampiress then threw a half-chewed apple at Darius.

Darius, however, dodged the apple in the nick of time and let it hit some other unfortunate soul. "I came here to group-gather and return our Dearest." He raised his wand, and then shouted out a spell Harry recognized from the Gore Crow session in Afterlight. "_Resorantus_!" Darius shouted, and all the vampires replied in the same style, some still singing "Renegades of Night" a second time-around. Then, everyone stared up and cried out as loudly as they could, "SARGON VON DORIAN, RETURN TO US!"

"To place itself, so bright on high…" Cassandra muttered in a corner. Harry could tell she was unaware of his presence, and although he had made a friend of her, he wasn't quite sure what a vampire would do to a human intruder in one of the most sacred get-togethers. Her eyes were glowing bright green, but Harry observed that only the fire in the torches and lanterns matched it; not a single other vampire had the luminescence. Therefore, it couldn't have been related to Sargon Von Dorian's sudden Resurrection. "And stole the night we knew was ours…"

"RETURN TO US!" The chorus shouted. "INTO OUR HOME, A BEATING RAY! INTRUDING, BUT SHUT AWAY SOON!"

"DURARE AEVUMIS!" Darius howled, leaning around the mausoleum. "I think that's it, everyone…party's over." The other vampires didn't heed Darius, though; they kept singing and chanting. "Hey, didn't you hear me? Respect your elders!" The noise continued. "LISTEN TO ME! HE SHOULD BE UP BY NOW!" Everybody shut up at that, and then a faint pounding could be heard on the mausoleum door. "Can it be?" Darius shoved several Von Dorians out of the way to open up the tomb's door…and out came a very handsome man with light chestnut hair…but obviously in need of a bath and new wardrobe, since his clothes were moth-eaten and his body was caked in dirt.

"THIS is the great Sargon Von Dorian?" Lethe asked in the crowd, and then laughed to herself. "Sheesh…doesn't HE look ratty!" Some of the younger Von Dorians laughed as well, but the older ones—and the older vampires there—had more common sense than to do that.

"Quelle heure est-il?" was the first question to come out of Sargon's mouth.

"My dear Sir Sargon!" said Lawrence, "it's one o' clock in the morning."

"Fabulous," Sargon said, looking around, and then his porcelain-like face paled for a moment as he pulled his white gloves off and noticed just how many vampires had gathered to see him return to life. "Good Lord, help me," he said, glancing at the thousands. Harry knew the feeling all too well; Sargon was embarrassed in front of his public. "Okay, the show's over," Sargon said smoothly, trying to get the vampires to go away. "I'm in no state to be leading the Bloodlust Celebration tonight…let this be Lawrence's last night as the head of the clan until I reach my demise again. We all know that vampires may only be Resurrected three times…this was my first Resurrection, so I still have two left, if need be." He stayed close to Darius, however, and then said, "I'm heading back up to Hogwarts with Darius, everyone. I'll see you later."

"You can all go home now," Darius said, walking off with Sargon, Cassandra, and Lethe. "Well, that was annoying—"

"I agree!" Lethe said, stomping off in a huff. "Half those people were tone-deaf."

"Couldn't they have gathered elsewhere to bring me back?" Sargon asked Darius, his face still rather white. "I mean, it's not that I dislike the celebrity treatment…it's just that I loathe being put on display in front of a crowd, at least one-third of which is unfamiliar to me."

Harry simply followed the vampires back to Hogwarts and managed to take off the Invisibility Cloak when he was sure that Darius and Sargon had made it back to Turret Thirteen, Lethe had returned to either Turret Six or the auxiliary auditorium, and Cassandra had started heading back to the Slytherin Dormitories. He breathed a sigh of relief, and started walking back to the Gryffindor Dormitories, where he fell asleep immediately, not caring if he was late getting up for class the next day…just as long as Cassandra didn't find out he'd been snooping on the Resurrection of the Von Dorian patriarch.


	33. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two:

The Botched Quidditch Game

Aurelius beamed and said, "I take pride in being a Gryffindor Alumnus!"

"Aurelius," said Morty, "nobody should take pride in anything—"

"Ahem," said Fenrir, beaming. "I take pride in _this_." He had both his hands very close to his pants zipper.

"We don't want to see it!" Aurelius and Morty shouted. "We _don't_ want to see it!"

"Why?" Fenrir said, laughing. "I was just going to show you a battle scar I got from fighting a Persian kraken in the Caspian Sea. What did you think I was doing?"

"You don't want to know," Aurelius said flatly.

"Knowing you, Lycaon," Morty added, "it could have been anything."

Harry and his friends had overheard this conversation and burst into fits of laughter, seeing as the teenage mind was usually down in the gutter. "I thought Fenrir was going to pull something out of his pants," Ron theorized. "Lucky for us, he didn't."

"Such a sick mind, Ron!" Hermione said, still laughing.

"Find something funny, do you?" Fenrir asked, leaning over toward the Hawkbane students table. "Well, the humor's just beginning, I'm afraid…today's the day for the Salem students to arrive, and we're going to be throwing a Quidditch match in their honor."

"But we've already played all four Houses!" Lisa said. "There's nobody left to play!"

"Are you kidding?" Fenrir asked, and then laughed. "It's a special match; we, the faculty, will be playing as a team. That old bird Lucinda will be our Seeker, of course. Ebonyste and I are going to be Beaters—we both played that position when we were in the Ravenclaw Quidditch team as students—Aurelius, Minerva, and Juno—ugh, she really annoys me—will be our Chasers, and we're going to have Hagrid as our Keeper."

"Hagrid?" Ron repeated, a bit surprised. "But, how come none of the major professors, save McGonagall and Hagrid, wanted to play?"

"Most of them said they'd rather watch," Fenrir said calmly. "Besides, not all of us are going to be playing, since only a small percentage of us were actually on the Quidditch teams during our school years…and even fewer of us were decent at it. I, for one, was a great Beater…although that stupid fairy-boy Adonis hit me in the head with the Bludger during every practice, any chance he got." He rolled back his shoulders and said, "Well, I'm off to have a little lemonade with lavender before I go out there—"

"Ugh," Hermione said. "Why would you drink lavender?"

"Ever since the Roman Empire, lavender's been acknowledged as a great tension-relieving herb, and has been known to calm the mind and loosen up tight muscles," Fenrir stated, as if he was reciting a Tennyson poem for a literature professor. "Professor Snape hasn't informed you about lavender's healing powers in Potions?" When there was no reply, Fenrir shrugged his shoulders and walked off. "You have all morning to prepare yourselves. Good luck."

"Alright everybody!" Lisa shouted, marching across the Quidditch field in her Hawkbane game robes, strutting like a proud male peacock. "As the self-appointed captain of the Hawkbane Quidditch team—"

"Nobody voted for you!" Malfoy argued. "You don't deserve that spot, Turpin!"

"Ahem," Lisa said, not budging. "Anyway—"

"Do we have to knock you out to shut you up?" Marcus asked, tapping his foot. "You know, I wouldn't hesitate to do that; I'd rather anyone but you be our captain…you suck."

"Excuse me?" Lisa snarled, offended. "I had enough talent to make it to this team as a Chaser, thank you very much, Cantarus!"

"Why don't we get a Seventh Year to lead us into this academic battle?" inquired Josh.

"Good idea!" everyone—except Lisa and Josh—shouted. "AS LONG AS IT ISN'T YOU!" Josh looked offended, but said nothing. He'd opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"Hey, I don't want to do it," Celia said, "and I'm the only other Seventh Year!" She smiled and said, "I'd like to simply stay a Chaser, thanks."

"I'll do it," Harry volunteered. Almost everyone thought it would be a good idea, except—

"I'm not taking orders from Potter," Malfoy hissed. "I'll do it!"

"I'm not taking orders from _you_, Malfoy," Harry replied.

"What about me?" Isis asked, curious.

"NO!" everybody shouted. "You'd screw it up!"

"Oh," Isis said, sounding a tad hurt. "Okay."

"I don't see what's wrong with ME!" Lisa said, folding her arms.

"I do!" Ron shouted. "You're a bossy, gossiping ninny!"

"Ninny, am I?" Lisa snarled, "Then how am I in the Hawkbane program?"

After a bit more of an argument, it was decided that Ron would be made the Hawkbane Quidditch captain. Only Lisa objected, but nobody really cared about what Lisa thought. "Me?" Ron was a bit confused, and the tips of his ears were turning red. "I'm the Captain?"

"Er…yup," said Hagrid, coming onto the field. "How yer doin', everyone?"

"The game's about to start?" Isis asked, looking nervous. Her hands were shaking, clutched to the top of her Nimbus 1800. "I'm scared."

Hagrid patted Isis on the back. "Aw…now don' be scared, Acheron. It's jus' another game; an' this one won't count against yer team if yer were ta lose."

"Which IS probable, mind you," said Fenrir, coming onto the field. He was wearing combat boots, worn blue jeans, and a Nazareth T-shirt instead of his teacher's robe, and Harry managed to take a look at the professor's broomstick; a navy-and-bronze Soulcatcher. "I'm a great Beater." Since Fenrir's T-shirt was short-sleeved, it gave him a chance to show the students his well-sculpted biceps; it was apparent he worked out often, since anyone could see the muscle.

"I 'ave been proud to play zis position!" Snitchgrass said, coming out in a white dress and nurse-shoes. She hopped on her Monsoon Storm and said, "Okay, 'Arry…it's you an' Malfoy against me zis time, zince ve are all after ze Snitch. Are you ready to play?"

"Yes," Harry said, trying to keep a good poker face with Snitchgrass. "I can handle you."

"Damn, you're haughty," Fenrir said, eavesdropping. "I admire that; I mean, look at me! I'm haughty too! I'm perhaps the most arrogant member of the faculty, but with good reason."

"Zis vas none ov your business, Lycaon Fenrir!" Snitchgrass hissed venomously.

"Howdy, everyone!" Ebonyste crowed, coming onto the field not on a broomstick, but…a Hoover vacuum-cleaner. "I'm up and ready to play…and can you believe it? Someone from the Salem Academy is a Miamian!"

"A what?" asked McGonagall. "Adonis, what's a Miami an?"

"Someone who lives in Miami," Ebonyste replied. "It's a term for—"

"Why are you on a vacuum cleaner?" asked Malfoy. "Teacher's budget makes it so you can't afford a broomstick?"

"No," Ebonyste said, sucking his teeth. "The rulebook states nowhere that to play Quidditch, a broom is required." He patted the vacuum and said, "Hoover, nobody does it like you." He grinned widely and looked around, seeing if anyone else had caught the funny he'd made. When it became clear that only Harry got it, Ebonyste's ears drooped.

"Will the participating Professors and the Hawkbane Quidditch team come out to the field now?" Dumbledore asked from the loudspeaker. Harry walked out with his team, and watched as Ebonyste, Fenrir, and the other teachers playing Quidditch went out as a team, Snitchgrass first.

"Now, I have a little problem I would like corrected before we begin. You see, the students have two Seekers, and the professors only have one. One of the Hawkbane Seekers will have to sit out for the entire game, or both will have to switch at intervals, or Professor Snitchgrass might have to--"

"All is vell, Headmaster," Snitchgrass shouted back. "I can handle za both of 'em!"

"Are you sure, Professor Snitchgrass?" Dumbledore asked. "Because you can always ask another Professor to be a secondary Seeker for you."

"I'll do zat, zen," Snitchgrass replied. "Sybil!"

"Yes, Lucinda?" Trelawney asked from the bleachers, leaning over a bit. "What is it?"

"I—"

"Hold on…it's coming to me…" Trelawney said, cutting off Snitchgrass (Harry was glad to see how angry this made the mean old bird) "You want me to be your back-up Seeker?"

"Exactly!" Snitchgrass said. "Now, vill—"

"I'm not doing it," Trelawney said, folding her arms. "You can't make me."

Snitchgrass was in a huff. "Very vell! I shall pick someone else; thanks vor nothing, Sybil…Severus?"

"No," Snape said icily, and gave the Advanced Astrology teacher a very cruel smirk to show he really was enjoying her frustration.

"Darius, vill you—"

"Dream on, Lucy," Darius said, sticking out his tongue. "You were never nice to me…why should I bend down to help you?"

"Because it's the nice zing to do!" Snitchgrass hissed, waving her arms like a lunatic. At least half of the Hawkbane team was laughing at her by now in a rather mean-spirited way, including Harry.

"Newsflash," Darius retorted, "I'm a vampire, and it's not in my nature to _be_ nice." With that, he went back to his conversation with Morty, who was falling asleep.

"We can just ask one of the Hawkbane Seekers to step down, Lucinda," Dumbledore suggested.

"Zey vant to play jus' a' much as I do!" Snitchgrass yowled. "I vill zimply get another Professor to accompany me as a Seeker." The sheer annoyance on Snitchgrass's face was enough to make Harry, Malfoy, Ron, Lisa, Celia, Josh, and Marcus howl with laughter (Isis, for some odd reason, was so scared she couldn't bring herself to laugh). "Vat about Skip?"

"I would have gone if you'd called me Alex!" the calico-haired Clairvoyancy professor shouted back. "But now that you called me by that _stupid_ nickname, which I loathe with a passion, I won't even consider."

"But you an' I are both in za Hawkbane Society…an' I taught you, you ungrateful little brat!" Snitchgrass was raging by this point. "Vill _anyone_ be my other Seeker?"

"I will," a voice in the crowd said. Harry looked into the bleachers to see who had spoken, and realized moments later that the speaker had been Sargon Von Dorian. "It's odd; the last time I saw you, you were still a brunette, Lucy. My, how time flies for you mortals!"

"Oh no," Lisa said, rolling her eyes. "She picked a vampire…their eyesight is supposedly three times sharper than any human's."

"I beg to differ," argued Ron. "I bet Mad-Eye Moody can see better than any vampire."

"Yeah, well…Moody doesn't count," Lisa said, giving Ron a raspberry…and not the fruit kind.

"Hello," Sargon said to the Hawkbane team. "I don't believe I've met a single one of you before." He outstretched his hand (still in a white glove). "My name is Sargon, and I'm Professor Ahsimal's assistant."

"Ve haven't got all day, Von Dorian," Snitchgrass snarled. "You can talk to zose kids after za game."

"I agreed to play…but I didn't give consent to you harping at me like the old squawker you are," Sargon said, grabbing an auxiliary broomstick from the corner. "Ah…a Cleansweep. Ahem…I'm ready to play."

"Thank you for being a good sport, Sargon," Dumbledore said, "and it is good to have you back to assist Professor Ahsimal in Necromancy. Well, with that settled, let the game begin!"

And so it began…Harry and Malfoy dodged a Bludger that Ebonyste had swung at them in the first five seconds. "Hey, stand still so I can give you three days out of class!" Ebonyste barked arrogantly.

"I like Care of Magical Creatures too much to consider that!" Harry shouted back, whacking Ebonyste in the head with the end of his Firebolt. "And so does Malfoy!" he joked.

Hagrid caught a Quaffle that Lisa had hurled his way, and flung it to McGonagall, who managed to easily get past Ron and make the first score. "Atticus Shadow IX will not be your announcer for the game today," Snape's dreary voice resonated through the loudspeaker. "I will be in charge of that, since Shadow has been expelled for petrifying a teacher. Enough of that; the first few points go to the teachers; Professor McGonagall got a Quaffle past Weasley."

"Measly King Weasley!" Malfoy shouted at Ron. "Get it RIGHT for once!"

Ron was trying his best to keep the Quaffles from going past the rings, but McGonagall was extremely good as a Chaser, and Lethe wasn't half-bad, either. Aurelius, however, played as if he were still a student. Malfoy's taunts made matters worse; Lethe hurled a Quaffle at Ron, and instead of going through the hoop, it hit Ron in the head. "Ow! Watch it, Professor!" Lethe shrugged and went back to the game.

Harry was looking around for the Snitch, as were Malfoy, Snitchgrass, and Sargon…but it was odd; nobody had spotted it. "Where IS it?" Harry asked himself out loud.

"Hell if I know," Malfoy said, looking around, "but if you or I find it…good." Something hurled toward Malfoy, and for a moment it looked like, "THE SNITCH!" he shouted and pointed, looking very happy. "I FOUND IT!" He was acting a bit too happy for Harry's comfort, and he found it odd that Malfoy wasn't chasing after it. "THERE IT IS!"

"Vat?" Snitchgrass asked. "Vere?" She was turning her head in every possible direction, and then she spotted the moving object. She and Sargon chased after it fiercely, trying to outdo each other.

Harry began to move toward it, about to lunge for it, but Malfoy held him back. "Usually, I'd let you go for this, but since you and I are trying to catch the bloody Snitch before those two…the chances of getting the real one are a lot larger if you don't conk out."

"What?" Harry asked, watching the Professor and the Assistant shove each other out of the way brutally.

"Get out ov my vay, Von Dorian!" Snitchgrass snarled. "I vant to catch it!"

"So do I," Sargon venomously replied. He rushed after the object, and forcefully shoved Snitchgrass out of his way. "MOVE IT, OLD HAG!" Snitchgrass was flailing about the field, trying to get a grasp of her broomstick before it was too late, but Sargon finally managed to catch the thing he assumed to be the Snitch. "Caught it!" he shouted to the crowd. Suddenly, it exploded, and flung Sargon halfway across the field. He fell into the bleachers, and went unconscious due to a concussion. As if that _thud_ sound wasn't bad enough, a squeal of horror from Darius soon followed.

"Sargon Von Dorian mistook an explosive golf ball for the Snitch and has just won himself a free trip to the Infirmary," Snape said grimly. "I'll be surprised if that explosion didn't kill him a _second _time this week."

Harry was keeping a close eye on Fenrir and Ebonyste, making sure the Bludger wasn't coming his way. "Having fun?" Aurelius asked, coming up toward Harry with the Quaffle.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Are you?"

"Very much so," Aurelius answered happily. "I've never played in an actual Quidditch game before…never was on the team. I'm having lots of fun." He pointed toward the ruined bleachers. "But, apparently, poor Sargon over there isn't having the time of his life."

"HE'S DEAD!" shouted Madame Pomfrey.

"Again?" Darius whined. "Aw…now I've got to Resurrect him out in public…he _hates_ that!" Darius picked up his already-dead boyfriend and started stomping off toward Turret Thirteen.

"Isis Acheron has just been knocked out of the game as well. We have reason to believe that a freak Quaffle incident caused her to lose her balance and fall off her broom," Snape updated. "And Hagrid has blocked yet another would-be score from Celia Wells and Lisa Turpin. Turpin, you still owe me your essay on vetivert!"

"You've GOT to be kidding!" Lisa shouted, trying to get the Quaffle past Hagrid once more, and yet again failing in that attempt. "Marcus, whack somebody out…Josh isn't going to budge!"

Marcus got his hands on a Bludger, and then hit it with his entire bat's might…and it landed right in-between Lisa's thighs. The impact caused Lisa to hurl off her broomstick, and land face-first on the ground.

"And now Turpin is out as well," Snape said, sounding slightly relieved. "Another score for the Professors; Lethe just got _another_ score past Weasley."

"Woo hoo!" Lethe said, doing a little victory dance. "Victory for Ravenclaw! Hey, Stanzi? Did you get a picture of that? Wait until Cecil—" Marcus aimed a Bludger at Lethe, and it had hit her in the left cheek, causing her to lose her balance and fall off.

"Oh, and Lethe's down," Snape said in a voice which would almost pass for cheerful. "What a pity." Harry heard those three words, and could tell just _how_ much sarcasm dripped from that statement. "And there goes Fallowin."

"UNCLE AURELIUS!" Rick shouted in the Slytherin stands as Aurelius fell with yet another sickening thud.

"Was this Quidditch or a Blood Bath?" Snape asked Dumbledore, but the question could be heard over the intercom. "I don't want to be doing this lousy job…an acquaintance of mine is down there, injured, and I was wondering if you could get a substitute to—"

"I want to do it!" said a very peppy, familiar voice. "Leave it to me, Severus!"

"Oo vas zat?" Snitchgrass asked, focusing her attention at the newcomer.

"Is it…" Malfoy began. "No…she's in Canada…"

Harry recognized the voice. "That sounds like—"

"MITZI!" Ebonyste cheered, absolutely overjoyed that the petite little blonde had returned to Hogwarts. He clapped his hands and waved his bat around. "You're back!" He accidentally knocked out Josh in the process. "Oh, sorry about that, Goldman…"

"Yes indeedy!" Nezura said, peeling some nail polish off her right hand. "My 'big clue' that Lucius Malfoy tipped me off on was a ploy…nothing more than some stupid attempt to keep me out of the Lupin case! Can you believe it?" She sounded as if she were outraged and had never thought a decent gentleman like Lucius Malfoy would lie to an Auror.

"I can believe it," Harry said. "Welcome back, Professor Nezura!"

"I'm back to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!" she chirped, sitting next to Snape, who moved as quickly as if Nezura were a plague victim. "Can I, Headmaster?"

"I'm sorry, Mitzi," Dumbledore said, "but as soon as you left, Dr. Hemlock came and said she would love to permanently teach Defense Against the Dark Arts until we are no longer in need of her services." Dr. Hemlock looked very happy with having Dumbledore stand up for her.

"Her services aren't required anymore," Nezura argued. "I am BACK, Sir!"

"Yes, and you might be leaving again," said Snape. "I'm more in favor of having Hemlock than you. If you're not working on an undercover case or what-not, why don't you just continue selling those little items at your Occasion Alley shop? People go there a lot, you get to handle a lot of foreign things, and you'd be letting someone with more expertise teach the class."

"Thank you, Severus," Dr. Hemlock said. "Er…has anyone caught the Snitch yet?"

"Sargon thought he had," Harry heard Snape say, "but it was a false alarm; it was an exploding golf ball and killed him. He'll be fine."

Nezura was outraged that Dr. Hemlock refused to budge from the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. "How could you? I mean, shouldn't you be writing books, or something?"

"I can still do that while teaching," Dr. Hemlock said, yawning. "Severus, you were nice to me just a moment ago, backing me up; how about I buy you a drink at the Annis next time we go?" Dr. Hemlock walked off with Snape, but the game continued.

Marcus hit the Bludger yet again, but Fenrir knocked him off first…and Marcus's Bludger only managed to hit Celia and toss her off her broom. "The Hawkbane team is deprived of Chasers and Beaters!" Nezura squealed. "What are they going to do!" She sounded so captivated by the game; a few seconds of that broadcast, and Harry could sense the ever-familiar melodrama which came out of Nezura's dainty little mouth frequently.

"This is so exciting! Oh! And Draco Malfoy has sacrificed his part in the game to knock Lycaon Fenrir—when did that jerk become a teacher!—off his Soulcatcher. Although Malfoy did not mean to fall off his own broom, we can guess his intentions." Fenrir fell to the ground, like all the others who had fallen. So had Malfoy. "They're dropping like dead flies!"

"It is jus' you an' me, 'Arry," Snitchgrass said, "za two best Seekers 'ave begun zere competition…to zee who vill catch ze Snitch virst." She looked absolutely diabolical in that white dress, but what really got Harry nervous were those sparkling white nurse shoes. Something about that bleach-white tone, spotless, was making him feel uneasy…Snitchgrass was the kind who wouldn't mind getting those dirty, as long as she could win. "Zo…ave you zeen it yet?"

"Why would I tell you?" Harry said. "I'm playing against you."

"It seems the Seekers are talking instead of playing the game!" shouted Nezura.

For hours, the game progressed with no real success. It had rained, and passed by in three hours; and neither Harry nor Snitchgrass had found the Snitch. They were cold, wet, and most uncomfortable, but the Snitch had to be found. "Who set the Snitch out at the beginning of the game?" Nezura asked. "Madame Hooch was sick this time. Headmaster, did you do it?"

"No," Dumbledore replied, "but it was Professor Ebonyste's turn."

"DON!" Nezura shouted. "Did you even set the golden Snitch loose on the field?"

'I think I—" Ebonyste cut himself off, and his long fairy ears drooped. "Whoops…"

"It's right here," Nezura said angrily. "That game was called for nothing!"

"Well, it's too late to send it out now," Dumbledore said, "so there is no other choice than to quit the Quidditch match and let the team with the most points win."

"The teachers have won the game," Nezura announced. "The score was Hawkbane 100, Teachers 150. Thanks for watching, everybody! Now, let's see if I can't get my teaching job back!"

"Are you deaf, little Auror?" Dr. Hemlock spat at Nezura. "I've got that job now, and I'm not letting go of it unless Headmaster Dumbledore decides to let me go, or I die."

"But I was here first!" Nezura argued.

"So what? I was here second," Dr. Hemlock replied, and walked off. "Go back to 'Nezura's Curiosity' where you belong."

Harry and Snitchgrass walked off the field to see that not only Nezura had returned to watch the game, but Lupin had shown up as well. Harry waved, and he waved back. "Harry," Nezura said, rushing up to him, "you were great!"

"You didn't write me," Harry said, a bit perplexed.

"Yes, I did," Nezura replied. "Maybe they just didn't come in the mail."

"Good job, Harry," Furrier said, walking up toward him. "It was an interesting game, but I honestly think you would have won, had the Snitch been out there; sure, Lucinda's good, but she's getting old with arthritis."

Harry was a bit surprised that Furrier had commented on his work. "Let me guess, I have Clairvoyancy today?"

"Yes," Furrier said, "just as soon as you change out of your Quidditch robes and get to Turret Two, actually. Take your time; I'm not really in the mood for teaching, anyway; I was just thinking about throwing a Welcoming Party in class to welcome our new additions from Salem. You haven't had the chance to meet any of them, yet, now have you?"

"No, sir, but aren't there a lot of them?"

"Dr. Hemlock wanted a lot to come, but only four of them actually ended up coming. We're going to be sending a professor over to Salem, and we will be receiving a teacher from Salem over here for the rest of the school year," Furrier had a faint purr in his voice. "I am proud to say that Cyanis has been—"

"ALEX!" Lethe shouted, terrified. "COME HERE, QUICK!"

"What happened?" Furrier said, stomping over there with Harry. The light focused on yet another couple of dead bodies; it was Naomi Fenrir…and Jules Pyrites. Naomi had broken her neck, but Pyrites simply had the iron rod jabbed into his shoulder. Harry felt in his pocket for the rod Lethe/Quirrell had given him, and his eyes widened in terror…it wasn't there! Somehow, his rod had found its way to Pyrites's demise. Furrier covered his mouth, and ran off, obviously about to vomit. "Go get the Headmaster, Juno!"

Lethe ran off as if demons were chasing her, and then a swarm of people came over there.

"Potter?" Fenrir asked, approaching him. "What the Hell happened here? I heard Lethe scream, and—NAOMI!" He ran over to the body of his eldest daughter. "No…" He held her close to him and shook her, trying to get her to, "Wake up, Naomi …"

"You could get her Resurrected, Lycaon," Dumbledore said, walking up with Lethe. "Juno, thanks for getting me." Lethe said nothing, but looked obviously spooked by this discovery. She ran off, panic-style, once more, at an almost unheard of speed.

"No," Fenrir said, looking straight at Dumbledore. "She wouldn't want that…besides, I can't afford it…"

"Isn't Professor Ahsimal your friend?" Dumbledore asked. "Seeing as Darius is such a nice fellow, I'm sure he'd Resurrect Naomi for free."

"She wouldn't want that," Lycaon said, with tears. "Any form of Necromancy is her darkest fear, and that of Cora as well."

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you the other news, then," Snape said grimly. "There have been even more killings in the hall; your other daughter is dead, along with six other students."

"Was Lisa Turpin one of them?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately not," Snape said dryly. "But Acheron was killed."

Fenrir's tough-guy façade had melted clean-off, and his chiseled face let out tears of agony Harry could only imagine. "THIS ISN'T RIGHT! THEY WERE GOOD GIRLS!" He looked up to Dumbledore. "And Marpessa…? Is she…?"

"I'm sure Marpessa is fine, Lycaon," said Dumbledore. "She's with your sister, right?"

"I never…was close to…Naomi or Cora…but they were still my daughters…my own flesh and blood. After Ariel died…I thought nothing could be worse…I was wrong…" Fenrir was in true anguish, and Harry really did feel sorry for him.

"Professor," Harry said, "I'm really sorry—"

"How could you say 'sorry' when you can't sympathize? Potter, you don't know my pain! Everyone that is close to me ends up dying…" the tears stopped, and Fenrir's ever-familiar strong aura returned. "I will be taking a short leave to gather friends and family together for the funerals. Headmaster, do I have permission?"

"Yes, Lycaon; you have permission," Dumbledore said sadly. "It's a shame that this happened to a fine man such as yourself, and to your wonderful daughters. Perhaps Hogwarts should be closed—"

"NO," said Dr. Hemlock, walking into the crowd. "If you do that, Headmaster, then the gorgonix will never be caught. As long as we know it's in Hogwarts, we can send people out to investigate and lead to its capture. I've already been searching with Professor Ebonyste, and I have a list of suspects." She patted Fenrir on the back. "There, there, Lycaon; you know me; I'll have the killer caught."

"And I'll do it!" Nezura shouted, storming into the group. "I'm an Auror, you know!" She looked at Naomi and Pyrites and gagged. "Ugh…this has STILL been going on?"

"Apparently so, Mitzi," Dumbledore stated. "Dr. Hemlock has been working with Professor Ebonyste to help track down the gorgonix. Would you like her to help?"

"No," Nezura snarled. "She stole my job."

"I would still like you here," Dumbledore said calmly. "But there are no teaching positions open—"

"But Pyrites is dead, right there! He taught Manipulations—"

"That course has been a plague ever since I let it continue with Wolfe Leir," Dumbledore said glumly. "I would have hoped that what happened to Aldebaran Black would not have repeated itself at the time. Now I see that it's only gotten worse. I've employed an ambitious young man with dreams, only to have him killed; an alleged grieving widow who turned out to be not only a fraud, but a lamia; and now this fraud."

"What's happening to him!" Nezura yelped in shock.

Harry looked down to see that Pyrites was shifting back to Julius Cantarus…Mortius. "Pyrites was Mortius all along," he said. "Professor Lethe and I knew about it—"

"Most of us did," Furrier said, "but we couldn't find a way to prove it."

"I tried to have him fired once I found out," Dumbledore said, "but I couldn't legally do it."

"Headmaster," Stanzi said, coming up as well. She looked at Mortius's corpse and didn't seem to be upset, but she was horrified at the death of Naomi Fenrir. "THAT POOR GIRL! Headmaster, Esmeralda Von Dorian is here to be our exchange Hypnosis professor."

"It's nice to have you, Esmeralda," Dumbledore said, "but tragedy has just struck at Hogwarts."

Esmeralda peered over Dumbledore's shoulder, and didn't look disgusted or horrified by the deaths; she looked as if it were nothing but garbage behind him. "Are my students in danger?"

"Probably," Dumbledore said. "We have a gorgonix running loose at Hogwarts."

"My students are tough; they can handle a gorgonix if it comes to them," Esmeralda stated, and walked off, dragging Stanzi with her. "Come, Stanzi; show me the school!"

"Professors," Dumbledore said, "I must ask all of you to act as if nothing happened in classes today. I won't ask that of Professor Fenrir, since he is excused until he decides to come back to us, but the rest of us must try as hard as possible to keep the students calm."

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"I would like to welcome Serena Voltaire, Jezebel Smith, Shaquan O'Brien, and Aarel Graven to our Clairvoyancy class," Furrier said, forcing a smile on his face. "They have just arrived from Salem, and will be joining us for a while, courtesy of your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They will each be assigned to a different House while here, so let's all be polite and courteous."

"My name is Shaquan," Shaquan said nervously, "and the Sorting Hat placed me in Hufflepuff. I'm not sure what that means, since I don't know that much about Hogwarts, but I can tell you that your campus is a lot nicer than the one we have…ours looks almost like a regular high school."

"That's got to suck," said Malfoy.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"Hi," said an Arabic-looking girl with dark eyes and long hair. "My name is Jezebel, and I'm going to be in Ravenclaw. I know a lot about Hogwarts, and I wanted to pursue knowledge of the culture here and see what the best this school has to offer is. I'm sure I'll have fun here." Jezebel sat down quickly, and said, "Okay, Aarel; your turn."

"My name is Aarel Graven," Aarel said, bouncing a small ball of fire in-between his palms while talking, "and I am a Pyromagus; I can manipulate fire. I'll be in Slytherin, and I'm glad to see at least a few familiar faces in this class." The Slytherins applauded Aarel. "Hi, Cassandra."

"Hello, Aarel," Cassandra said. "Welcome to Hogwarts." Aarel sat between Marcus and Cassandra, and began to ignite the candles in Furrier's room, so electric light wouldn't be needed.

"I'm Serena," said the last American student. "I'll be in Gryffindor, and would love to make some new friends. This place is so pretty…it's hard to believe a killer's on the loose!"

"WHAT!" some of the students said, shocked…as if they'd forgotten about the gorgonix.

"The gorgonix," Serena said. "I'm right in saying there's one running amok here, right?"

"Yes," Furrier said, urging Serena to take her seat. He placed her next to Parvati "Now, everyone, I have a cake and refreshments for class today, celebrating this new blood to the school."

"Don't mention blood right now, Professor," Cassandra said. "I'm almost in Bloodlust." Aarel handed something to Cassandra; nobody heard another peep from her the rest of the period…

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Clairvoyancy had been about Pyramidology, and Harry had fallen asleep in the middle of it, when Furrier began to talk on a level where only Hermione, some of the Ravenclaws, the newcomers from America, and Cassandra would understand him. Harry wasn't in the best of moods at dinner, although it turned out Serena was rather fun to talk to; she was a friendly tomboy who loved to Duel and play Wizard's Chess. Everyone had retired early and gone off to bed around nine o' clock, except Harry. Seeing the lifeless body of pretty Naomi Fenrir had torn him up so badly that he couldn't close his eyes without seeing that horrible sight. He pulled out his Hawkbane card, and his Invisibility Cloak, and decided to head down to the kitchen so he could talk to Dobby. It had, of course, been a while.

The halls were not deserted, as Harry had hoped; he had to walk past Snape, who was unsuccessfully trying to console Fenrir; Morty, who was sleeping in the hall instead of his quarters; Filch and Mrs. Norris; Stanzi, who was giving Esmeralda a walking tour of the campus; and Hagrid, who was trying to take Godric for a walk. It seemed as if most of the teachers were walking about and couldn't sleep.

"We're calling in the Aurors," Harry heard Dumbledore say in a nearby classroom to Darius, McGonagall, Flitwick, Dr. Hemlock, and Sprout. "I don't think Mitzi Nezura will be able to find the gorgonix on her own…at least, not quickly."

"Adonis and I have several leads, and a few suspects," Dr. Hemlock said, "but I'm a writer and Dark Arts Guru, not an Auror. I think I know who we should send in for, although he retired."

"Who?" asked Flitwick.

"Mad-Eye Moody," Dr. Hemlock said icily. "He'd find the culprit in a heartbeat."

"Iphigenia, I don't know if Mad-Eye is disposable at the—" McGonagall was cut off.

"Good idea, Iphigenia!" Darius said cheerily. "I want to get rid of that thing, but I also want to be rid of the Slayers and all of their anti-vampire propaganda. I mean, the Ministry of Magic still employs vampire hunters!"

"It's been bad luck this year," Sprout said sadly. "I just hope our American guests don't end up like the Fenrir girls. Poor Lycaon…" Harry had his ear pressed to the door. "First, he gets bitten by a werewolf and ends up becoming one; then his wife dies of a brain tumor and leaves him alone with children; then his daughters are slaughtered by the gorgonix—"

"Or a Slayer pretending to be the gorgonix," Dr. Hemlock theorized. "That's a thought."

"Mortimer Skylarke, maybe?" McGonagall said. "He doesn't always come to meetings, he sleeps a lot, sometimes he's a bit rash with his fellow professors, and he _is_ teaching a rather controversial class at the moment. I mean, Curses & Rootwork isn't plain magic; it's a Dark Art."

"No, it couldn't be Morty," Darius argued. "He's a good man. I mean, you, Flitwick, and I were some of his professors, Minerva; you got to see him as a young adult in class, and now he's back to help contribute as best he can."

"Well, he's doing a sorry job," Sprout said flatly.

"Actually, he's a great professor and a good man," Dumbledore said, "and I would be shocked if the gorgonix was indeed Mortimer."

Harry kept walking, and finally made it to the kitchen. "Dobby?" he said, looking for his house elf friend. "Dobby, are you there? I was—"

"Thanks for letting me in, Dobby," said a voice Harry recognized, and made him very angry when he heard it.

"It's not a problem for Dobby, Peter Pettigrew," Dobby said. "Want a cookie?"

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_Hello! Greetings to you all! I must say I'm extremely disappointed in the lack of reviews for my story. I really have worked hard to research the material I have covered so far. Oh well, here's another chapter for your reading pleasure. Please do take the time to review and tell me what you think. I really do appreciate everyone who has reviewed in the past, and I also want to thank everyone who has at least read the story up to this point. I do hope you all are enjoying this tale. It won't be much longer now, only 18 more chapters to go. Take care everyone, watch out for the gorgonix, and I swear, it's not me! Oh, and a huge hug and thank to Nita, who has been formatting and posting this story for me on this site. Mortimer Skylarke_


	34. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three:

The Repentant Death Eater

"Thanks, Dobby…I'd love one," Wormtail said, nibbling on the food. "Running away made me hungry."

"Dobby loves to help, sir," Dobby said cheerily. "Want some milk too?"

"I'd love some!" Wormtail cheered.

"Dobby, NO!" Harry shouted, coming out of the shadows. "Don't feed this guy!"

"Hello, Harry Potter!" Dobby chirped. "Dobby missed you so much!"

"I appreciate that, Dobby, but I'm serious; don't feed this guy…he's a Death Eater!"

Wormtail cowered before Harry a bit. "Now…Harry…I've got a lot of explaining to do…I'm not…"

"You're not…what?" Harry said, not really caring what Wormtail had to say. "You're the gorgonix, aren't you?"

"The what!?" Wormtail shrunk into a corner. "I didn't know one of those was in the school!"

"How could you not? You're one of Voldemort's—oh, stop shivering! You serve him, for crying out loud, most loyal servants. Wasn't the gorgonix _his_ idea?" Harry was outraged.

"N-not that I was let in on," Wormtail yelped. "But, please, listen to me…I made a serious mistake…"

"So did I," Harry hissed, "Keeping you alive."

"No! Really, I have made a serious mistake!" Wormtail whined. "I don't want to serve the Dark Lord anymore!"

"I don't believe you," Harry said, and pulled out his wand. "_Imobulus._" Wormtail couldn't budge, and couldn't scurry away. "IS ANYBODY OUT THERE? THERE IS A DEATH EAT--" Dobby put a hand over Harry's mouth.

"No, Harry Potter; Peter Pettigrew isn't a Death Eater," Dobby argued. "Look at his arm, sir; I'd know the Dark Mark anywhere…and it isn't there…just a square of scar tissue."

Harry rolled up Wormtail's shirt sleeve, and noticed—sure enough—that the Dark Mark was no longer there. There were knife wounds there, however, and a lot of scar tissue. "You had it removed?" Wormtail weakly nodded and whimpered. "Why? I still think you're in connection with Voldemort."

"But I'm NOT!" Wormtail yelped. "I came here to..."

"Does this involve killing me?"

"Not at all; it doesn't concern you, Harry…not in the least…" Wormtail was shivering. "Please, you spared me once…why not again?"

"Because you killed my parents, and I should give them the satisfaction of your company in the Death Realm," Harry said flatly. "Now, why are you here?"

"You weren't a part of it!" Wormtail was obviously terrified. "I came here to save the last person in a long line of powerful sorcerers…the only living descendant of Circe."

"You're after Mortimer Skylarke?" Harry was very confused. "To kill him?"

"NO!" Wormtail squeaked. "He's in danger; there was something a Death Eater—a REAL one who still works for the Dark Lord—gave to you that you gave to Skylarke. It's draining the life out of him."

"So you want to help?" Harry blinked, and Wormtail nodded. "That's nothing but a bunch of lies you want to tell me so I'll let you go, and then you'll kill me."

"No, I won't!" Wormtail looked like he was about to cry. "How can I prove it?"

"How about you show me what was killing Skylarke that I gave him? Then I'll believe it."

"Why won't you believe me?"

Harry shrugged, said, "You're not credible," and walked off. "Dobby, that was a big mistake you made there."

He walked out into the hall, not wearing his Invisibility Cloak, just waiting for one of the professors in the hall to stop him. McGonagall looked at him, shrugged, and kept walking. Hagrid waved and smiled nicely, but kept walking Godric. After Esmeralda Von Dorian went into the Hypnosis Tower, Stanzi was panting and gasping for air…then fell over. Since he had his Hawkbane card out, it seemed as if getting in trouble would be next to impossible. As he kept walking toward the Gryffindor Tower, he tripped on Morty and fell over, waking the Curses & Rootwork teacher up. "Oh, sorry, Morty."

"Mmm…that's okay," Morty said. "I was just dreaming about my first date again." A smile was on his face. "She was practically an angel."

"Sorry to intrude on your memory," Harry said, "but Peter Pettigrew is in the kitchen, claiming he's here to save your life."

"I didn't even know it was in danger," Morty replied, still looking extremely drowsy…but his eyes widened after what Harry had said sunk in. "Did you say Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Why would he even consider saving your life? Were you friends or something?"

"I stopped a group of Slytherins from tossing him in a trash can once," Morty said, straightening up, "and now he follows me everywhere. I went to Occasion Alley recently, and there he was in his auntie's candy shop, eating Mood Drops." He pulled out a little bag of Mood Drops from one of his jacket's pockets, and popped a tangerine one in his mouth for some energy. "This seems to be the only thing besides green tea keeping me up these days," he said glumly. "I'm not even coherent most of the time. My dreams are frequently becoming much more dark and depressing, and I'm finding it harder to wake up each and every time." He stretched, and then put a breath-strip in his mouth to freshen his breath. "So…what did Wormtail want?"

"He said that I gave you something that was sucking the life out of you," Harry said. "I think he was just trying to tell me a lie to shut me up."

"Is he still in the kitchen?" Morty inquired.

"Why don't we find out?" Harry asked. "I'm just a little curious, Morty; when's our next Curses & Rootwork class?"

"Tomorrow," answered Morty. "I'm going to show you the Bloodline Curses…if I can wake up. Harry, did you find out which Professor was petrified by Atticus?"

"Blaise told me it was Madame Twitchett," Harry said, "she'd insulted Atticus's trombone skills one too many times."

Morty walked into the kitchen first; Harry waited outside, just to eavesdrop and hear what his friend was going to tell Wormtail, and just in case Wormtail had been lying and was trying to kill Morty, Harry would be right outside, unexpected. "Alright, Peter," Morty said. "What are you doing here?"

"I…came to save your life, Mortimer…" said Wormtail.

"From what, per se'?" Morty asked. "The gorgonix?"

"Until Harry mentioned gorgonixes, I didn't know there was one in here. I came to destroy something that's sucking the life clean out of you."

"Oh, really, now? And what, pray-tell, is it?"

"T-that thing th-that Harry gave t-to you!"

"WHAT?!" Morty snarled, and leaned out the door. "Harry, is that true? You gave me a Soul-Sucker?!"

"I would NEVER!" Harry said, outraged that Morty would suggest such a thing. "All I ever remember giving you, besides some chocolate when you were in the Infirmary, was that crystal ball exchange around Halloween. You wanted to observe my RedStar, so you gave me your crystal ball as a temporary replacement."

"That's right," Morty said. "I was wondering why it was such a quirky sphere…I guess now I know. You DID give me a Soul-Sucker, but you didn't know it was that."

"The Dark Lord's most devoted wanted to make sure that you got it," Wormtail said, addressing Harry. "But when that dedicated Death Eater told him that Mortimer Skylarke had taken it in, he was furious to know that Mortimer here was still alive. Yes, I worked for the Dark Lord, but it was out of fear…Mortimer is as close to a friend as I've got."

"Thanks for that assessment," Morty said dryly, and sounded a tad disgusted. "So…you decided to undo the plan?"

"Yes," Wormtail said. "How about I take the Soul-Sucker and get my Aunt Lorelei to destroy it?"

"Why can't you?" Harry asked.

"If I tried, the Dark Lord would kill me," Wormtail said, shivering. "I don't want to die….I need to find people who will help me…I want to stop him now, but I'm too scared…" He looked at Morty and grinned. "Mortimer! What about you and your Nemesarists? Would you..."

"HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT US?!" Morty thundered, bewildered. "Nemesarium is one of the most concealed societies of the modern age…and here you are, talking to me about it?! HOW?! Besides, they're not MY Nemesarists…anyone in there is a Nemesarist; there is no leader."

"Some…er…Nemesarists…were in the Death Eaters," Wormtail said, biting his fingernails. "Severus Snape, Darius Ahsimal, Lycaon Fenrir…"

"I knew about Severus and Darius," Morty said, "but Lycaon too?! Is there ANYONE I can trust these days?"

"You can trust me," Wormtail said nervously.

"No," Morty said, "I can't."

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The next day was utter chaos, since the entire school had found out who all had died, and most were afraid the gorgonix would attack them next. "We need to remain calm," Ebonyste said in Foreign Magic. "Now, to keep your adolescent minds occupied on your grades rather than your lives, I have a test over our notes on Faith Healing. You have an hour to finish this test...which will be the difference between passing and failing for some of you." He looked at the students, and his ears twitched. "You may begin."

"But you haven't given us the tests yet!" said Serena.

"You must be the Miamian," Ebonyste said, leaning toward Serena. "I'm from Miami too."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Serena said. "May we have the tests now?"

"You, Graven, Smith, and O'Brien are exempted from this test, Voltaire," Ebonyste said, "since you weren't here to take the notes—"

"I want to take it," Serena argued. "May I?"

"Well, I ain't gonna take it," Shaquan snapped. "I weren't here."

"Do most Americans _talk_ like that?" Hermione asked Jezebel.

"Sadly, yes," Jezebel said, slouching. "Professor…um…Ebonyste?"

"Yes, Smith?" Ebonyste asked. "What is it?"

"Aarel, Shaquan, and I don't want to take—"

"Hey, I'll take it," Aarel interrupted. "Fire away, teacher!"

"I like that attitude of yours a lot," Ebonyste said to Aarel. "Don't lose it, okay? It's—" His voice became dark and gruff once more, "ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE! YOU SICKEN ME, YOU FILTHY, SNIVELLING PIG! PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE WHAT IS WRONG IN THIS WORLD…AND I SHALL EVENTUALLY PURGE THE WORLD OF YOU AND THE OTHER SCUM! DIRTBAG, I SPIT AT YOU…MAY YOUR SOUL ROAST ALONG WITH THE REST OF YOUR FAMILY IN HELL. JUST YOU WAIT; I'LL—wonderful." He looked at the expressions of horror on everyone's faces, but clearly mistook it to be surprise at his compliment to Aarel. "What? Graven's a good kid deep down; don't act all surprised, kids!" His shaggy puppy (who had now grown to twice his previous size) was chewing on the furniture. "Belvedere, stop it!"

"He needs medication for bipolar or MPD," Jezebel whispered to Hermione. "Something's a little off about that oddball."

"You mean that's _not_ how the people of Miami act?" Hermione sounded shocked.

"No," Serena added. "Most of us are pretty normal."

"Hold on," Jezebel said, pointing at Harry. "You're Harry Potter?!"

"Took you long enough," said Ron.

"Man, yo! Professor Ebonyste's a little loopy!" Shaquan stated. "I don't think I'm gonna be likin' dis class."

"I'm not loopy," Ebonyste said. "There are lots of people who act like me in the USA."

"Yeah," Jezebel said, "in California."

"Just work on the damn test, people," Ebonyste said, taking a seat. "I've got to go let Belvedere potty before he wets on one of my statues." He opened the door, and walked out with his dog. "Come on, little guy; I'm sure we'll make it all the way to the Transfiguration classroom this time." There was a long silence, and then a shout of disgust. "Oh, um…sorry Severus."

"DAMN IT, BELVEDERE!" Snape shouted. "I'M A PROFESSOR, NOT A TREE!"

"Since you smell like dirt, Severus, I'm sure he mistook you for one. Dogs have a keen sense of smell, you know," everyone heard Ebonyste retort. There was something else that wasn't really coherent through the hallways, and then a, "Come, Belvedere…let's go back to the classroom before mean old Professor Snape decides to turn you into a stuffed animal." Ebonyste came back into the room and said, "Well, I don't think Professor Snape will have a dry trouser leg by the time you get to Potions…Belvedere had to potty, and he made a _very_ nice tree." There were some sniggers from the class, but Shaquan apparently didn't get it.

"Whatcha mean, teach?" Shaquan stated in his strange dialect.

"His dog whizzed on Snape," Hermione explained, getting back to the test. "Oh, now this is an easy test! Harry, where are you on here?"

"Question seven," Harry said. "I hate short answers."

"Why can't everything be multiple choice questions?" Ron groaned in agony.

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After Foreign Magic came to an end, Harry made it to Potions, and found himself having to guide Shaquan in the right direction. Snape had bickered about what Ebonyste's dog had done to him, but the lesson was rather mundane. After that, the class had headed toward Hagrid's Hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had something that looked a lot like a pretty woman sitting in his lap, making strange (yet soothing) noises. "Do any of yer know what this is?" There was silence…utter silence. "This is a nymph. She can freeze things when she bites."

"You've got a girlfriend?" Malfoy asked, looking at the nymph, still not sure what to make of it. It looked like a sexy life-size porcelain doll dressed in an outfit that looked like something a nine-year-old, rather than a nineteen-year-old, should be wearing style-wise.

"Olympe," Hagrid said in a very passive voice. When he saw the confusion, he said, "Yer know; Madame Maxime, the Headmistress o'er at Beaux batons!"

"I was talking about the hottie in your lap," Malfoy said, looking at the nymph with interest. He went up to her and grinned. "Hi. My name's Draco. What's yours?" The nymph made some more of the soothing noises, and began to run her long, delicate-looking fingers through Malfoy's hair. She then began to nibble on his ear. "Hey, I think she likes me!" he said, laughing, obviously enjoying the attention from the pretty, human-like, creature…until he started shivering. He pulled his ear out of the nymph's practically-perfect lips, and scowled. "That was nice until my ear froze."

"Well, you can't go blamin' Trini!" Hagrid said. "She's just doin' wha' nymphs do. An' if yer would've waited fer me to give my lecture before trying to flirt with our lesson, Malfoy, yer wouldn't a' made that mistake yer just did." He handed Malfoy a hot water-bottle and said, "Hold this to yer ear so it'll thaw out." Trini's eyes blinked, and changed color. Hagrid ruffled her hair and said, "Now, now, Trini; yer didn't do anything wrong." He pulled a peppermint out of one of his pockets, unwrapped it, and popped it in Trini's mouth. "Nymphs love herbal-infused treats," he said, "especially peppermint. If you wan' one of 'em to pay you attention, dangle some peppermint candy, candy-canes, spearmint-drops, or licorice rope in front of you. They'll come a' running ter get it." Trini was sucking on the peppermint, her eyes blinking rapidly in delight.

"But they look like people!" Hermione said. "How do you tell the difference?"

"There's several ways to tell, Hermione," Hagrid said. "Let's look a' Trini fer an example. Nymphs somewhat glow in the dark, their eyes change colors according to mood, they have the mentality of a dolphin, an' there's one sure-fire way to tell."

"And that would be…?" Cassandra added, waiting for an answer.

"Their ears," Hagrid said, brushing Trini's red hair out of the way to show that, "her ears have a point at the top an' are almost arrow-shaped."

"Can they interact with humans?" Marcus asked, grinning like the rest of the Slytherin boys.

"O' course they can!" Hagrid said, not really understanding what Marcus had meant. "Trini was Mad-Eye Moody's date for the Yule Ball back in 1994…when we couldn't talk anyone else into going anywhere near 'im."

"When did the Wizarding World find out about them?" asked Ron. "I mean, Dad's never talked about them, and he works for the Ministry of Magic…"

"Aw…Ron, they've always been around!" Hagrid said. "In Ancient Greece, most of the priestesses of Aphrodite were nymphs, and some Babylonian kings—like Cyrus and Darius—have even had nymph brothels—"

"UGH!" Hermione said. "But the nymphs don't complain?"

"They can't," Hagrid said. "Poor dears, they're submissive creatures."

"So if I told a nymph to pop me one on the cheek," asked Seamus, "She'd do it?"

"That's the idea," said Hagrid, "but I doubt you'd like a nymph kiss. Here; Trini will show yer who' I mean." Hagrid whispered something to Trini, and then the class watched as Trini got up and started walking toward Seamus. She kissed him on the cheek, and his cheek froze. Hagrid handed a very unhappy Seamus a hot water bottle, as he had done with Malfoy. "There ya go."

"So why would kings want them in their harems?" Hermione sounded appalled.

"Nymphs are very low-maintenance," Hagrid said. "They can live to be three-hundred, and never age past what yer seeing now with Trini. Trini's two-hundred and seventy-nine. Besides, they have a special allure or somethin' to 'em that makes people find 'em sexy."

"Point made," Dean said, blinking at Trini, who was repeating the action.

"How do you safely kiss one?" Ron asked. "Hagrid, is there a way?"

"O' course there's a way, Ron!" Hagrid said, laughing. "Yer jus' have to kiss 'er first!"

"Are there any nymph-human half-breeds running amok?" asked Pansy Parkinson.

"There's been reports that the Turpin an' Lockhart families have some nymph blood," Hagrid answered, "but I've seen who' bad nymphs can do…I wouldn't be surprised if some o' you had a bad nymph as an ancestor."

"Like who?" Pansy inquired.

"Well…" Hagrid said, "You, Malfoy, and Cantarus, I'm guessing'."

"My family has pure magical blood," Malfoy argued.

"An' nymphs are magical creatures," Hagrid replied. "I also think Claire Lewn 'ad some nymph blood in 'er, 'though she was a lamia; she looked as close to one as a lady could get." Trini started rubbing against Hagrid, and pawing at one of his pockets for another peppermint. "Oh, alright," Hagrid said, giving Trini another treat. "Now, Trini, yer listening ter me, right'?" Trini nodded and sucked on the peppermint, a smile appearing on her face. "I wan' you ter dance with one of my students. It's part o' the lesson."

Trini made more soothing noises (Harry had never heard an actual human sound like that), and came up to the students. She then opened her mouth, and said in a very fluid voice, "Care to dance?" It didn't sound like a voice a woman could have used, but it made the boys twice as eager to come to her for a dance.

"Now, everyone," Hagrid said, "only one o' ya needs to dance with her."

"Is there some sort of catch? Like with the kiss?" Malfoy asked warily.

"Nah," Hagrid said. "Nymphs like dancing. Harry, why don't you dance with Trini?"

"Me?" Harry asked, rather pleased with Hagrid's choice. "Why me?"

"Trini seems to like you," Hagrid said, "or you've got something she wants." Harry fished a spearmint candy out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and gave it to Trini, who made a noise similar to a purr. She then grabbed his hands, and began to move her body in a very appealing way. "Ah, now she _really_ wants to dance."

"What do I do?" Harry asked Hagrid.

"Jus' dance, Harry; that's all she wants," Hagrid said, laughing.

Dancing with Trini the nymph was a lot different from dancing with Cho or Ginny; she was very lively, and pulled a lot of risqué moves to get attention. She cooed, and ran her fingers through Harry's hair…it was like dancing with a living doll. There was nothing but shallow pleasure in the dance, and although Trini was entertaining, Harry didn't really find that much of an attraction toward nymphs on a deep level. "Trini, did you have fun?" he asked the nymph. Trini purred and rubbed her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry patted her on the back, and then noticed what was going on; Trini fished a candy cane out of his pocket, and then hopped back toward Hagrid.

"Well done, Harry," Hagrid said. "That deserves an 'O'." Trini went back over toward Malfoy, and kissed him. "Malfoy," Hagrid abruptly said, "quit playing' around an' listen ter me for a moment; yer got ta kiss her first, or you're going to regret the' kiss." Malfoy wasn't paying attention; he let Trini give him another kiss, and he froze all over his body. "Oh dear," Hagrid said. "Er…can I get two people to take Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey?" Crabbe and Goyle rushed off with their frozen friend immediately.

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"That was a rather amusing lesson," Cassandra said, grinning energetically, swinging a small vial around. "I personally can't wait until Hagrid starts his lesson on the Manticore…those creatures are fascinating!"

"Manticore?!" Ron repeated, sounding horrified. "You mean he's GOT one?"

"What?" Cassandra asked, "Oh, yeah; he's got one. He named it Cuddle Chublet."

"Cuddle Chublet?" Hermione repeated. "What kind of name is THAT for a Manticore?"

"Well, what kind of name is Norbert for a baby dragon?" Cassandra retorted. "A name assigned by Hagrid, no doubt."

"How'd you know about Norbert?" Ron asked.

"_The scarf that idiot let me use…it's all coming clear to me, thanks to the technique I found. This strategy, also known more commonly as the Macedalion, has given me the ability to gather information by fingertip contact_," Cassandra quoted her journal, and then smirked at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to drop this vial off to Turret Thirteen before we make it to Curses & Rootwork. Darius needs it to revive my clan's patriarch the second time this week."

"How many times can vampires be Resurrected?" Ron asked. "Charlie told me that they can only come back thrice—"

"He wasn't lying," Cassandra said. "Unlike humans, vampires may only be Resurrected thrice, and then it will no longer work…unless the vampire was in love with a mortal or someone outside their clan's comfort zone. This will be Sargon's second Resurrection."

"So he still has a spare one left, just in case?" Hermione asked. "That sounds ridiculous."

"Believe me," Cassandra said, "it's no laughing matter if you're a vampire."

"You're no FULL vamp, girl," hissed Shaquan, passing by. "I can tell you're only _half_."

"Yes, that's true too," Cassandra said, glaring at Shaquan. "If you spread that around, I can guarantee something bad will happen to you; this has been my secret up here for the past six years, and I'll be damned if some punk from America is going to ruin that for me." Shaquan backed up, and began to catch up with Hannah and Justin. "Ugh…O'Brien has gotten on my last nerve today. He's fired up some of my House mates into that Slayer garbage yet again, so now I can't wake up without finding garlic—which I am _highly _allergic to—on my pillow."

"That's harassment," Hermione said. "You should report him to Dumbledore."

"That _encourages_ the behavior," Cassandra replied. "You should have seen what happened when I reported Marcus and Josh."

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"Welcome back," Morty said dryly as he passed out small copies of **The Continuous Book of Perpetual Curses**. Harry noticed that his wardrobe had changed; he hadn't seen anything but jade silk and brown leather on Morty since the first day of the school year, and here he was, wearing a black trench coat, black dress-pants, black leather gloves, a gray shirt with a hippogriff embroidered on it, and a Slytherin scarf. "These are NOT textbooks, and we will NOT be sneaking these out of my tower without my supervision. If any of you are fascinated with what I teach, feel free to come after school and let me know so we can practice. However, this is class time, and you will not be using dangerous material outside of the classroom without permission from a superior. I hope everyone understands, but we've got to tighten up on security."

"I understand," Cassandra said, looking at the book. She then raised her hand.

"Yes, Cassandra?" Morty said. "What is it?"

"Sir, I've already got a copy of this in my sack," she explained. "I don't need to borrow one of yours." Morty came by and took up Cassandra's book. He looked very tired, as if he hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the school year began. Off in the corner was a rat Animagus—Wormtail, formerly known as Scabbers or Peter Pettigrew—curled up, asleep, next to the fake crystal ball which was sucking the life clean out of Morty every second his poor decomposed heart continued to beat. "And, just so you know, there's a rat in your room." A few of the prissier girls shrieked.

"Oh, that's just my pet rat, Scabbers," Morty said calmly. "He's harmless." Ron raised his hand so swiftly, that he accidentally whacked Marcus in the nose. He looked absolutely panic-stricken. "Yes, Ron? Is something the matter?"

"Yes, sir!" Ron said, blanching. "Could I whisper it in your ear?"

"Sure," Morty said, leaning over so Ron had access to his left ear. "Go on."

Harry overheard Ron whisper (it was hard _not_ to; he was sharing a desk with his best friend) to Morty, "That's not a rat, Professor. Scabbers used to be my family's pet…but he's really an Animagus; Peter Pettigrew, a Death Eater, to be more precise…he's why Harry's parents are dead."

Morty whispered back, "I know that, but I guess Harry hasn't told you Pettigrew is trying to absolve himself and right his wrongs as best he can without coming out of his hiding place?"

"Lousy brute," Ron grumbled. "You could curse him, you know—"

"I already _have_, Ron," Morty said, sounding a bit impatient. His voice was slightly loud enough so that everyone else in the room would have heard him, had they been quiet. "Until I absolve him, he has no other choice than to repent….unless he wants to spend eternity roasting and paying for his sins. We'll cover those—the Tartarian, Hellbound, and Damnation Curses—next time in here." He stood up, wobbled a bit from drowsiness, and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it, alright? I've got everything under control, as best I can." He popped an orange Mood Drop into his mouth, and his face lit up for a moment. "Open your temporary guidebooks to page 773," he said merrily. "And keep it on that page, because you'll never see it again, if you're careless. Today, we cover the Bloodline Curses!" He looked around, and was surprised at the lack of interest. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted to know how to invoke damage on each other."

"We do," Marcus said, "but some of us are still worried about the serial killer running loose in the school, and—"

"Who told you it was a serial killer?" Morty inquired. "I thought it was a gorgonix."

"In Divination, Professor Trelawney said—"

"Marcus, do you realize what you're saying? You're quick to believe Sybil Trelawney when you've got your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher telling you it's a gorgonix?" Morty scratched his head, and lifted up his glasses a little. "That's confusing me, lad; I'd take Dr. Hemlock's word for it over Trelawney. I mean, really—"

"Professor Hemlock said she thinks that a Slayer is _helping the gorgonix attack_," Marcus said. "Some of the killings weren't in the gorgonix style."

"I'll take her word for it," Morty said. "But death is death, and most of the time, it can be remedied if a good Necromancer is available." He laughed a bit to himself, and said, "Now, the Curses…I take it everyone's on the right page. I shall begin the lecture now, so I urge you to take notes as you see fit." He bent over to write a note on his desk, and tied it to the foot of his great horned owl. "Archimedes, I want this sent to The Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible." He opened the window and said, "Oh, right; the lecture…as you already know, there are certain traits which are passed down from parent to child, to grandchild, and so on. For example, let's take Harry; he looks a lot like his father, but there are certain traits of his which are much more like his mother, such as his eyes. This is genetics—I've got a master's degree in biology at a Muggle college, so I know a little about this—and it's passed down hereditarily. Now, there is a rather humorous, yet harmless, family curse running through the Zabini family, causing every firstborn male to look extremely girly." He pointed at Blaise, and said, "See? Our dear friend Blaise has been affected."

"I can't help it," Blaise argued.

"I know you can't," Morty said, "and I never said you could." He pulled down the drapes on the windows, and the room became dark, except for the few green sconces on the walls, and the small sunroof which cast light directly (and only) on him, like a spotlight. "_Chasien_," he muttered, pointing his wand at the sunroof. He walked around, and the spotlight followed him. "Now, family curses are actually called Bloodline Curses—I'm sorry for mentioning blood, Cassandra, but it's part of the lesson—and are passed down generation-to-generation until they are broken. They can be ridiculous, such as giving each second daughter webbed feet; harmless, such as the Zabini Curse of making all firstborn males very feminine in appearance; or maybe even dangerous, like the Shadow Curse, where all firstborn—male or female—can petrify people by eye-contact. You can make them deadly, also, if you so choose, where every other generation is destroyed, save one person. The possibilities of these Curses are endless, but the incantation remains the same."

"incantation…remains…same," Hermione copied. "I've got it, Professor."

"Great," Morty replied. "Now, the words are '_Penumbrien apresnacht_', and simply chant them as you would any other incantation…yet clearly picture which family you wish to place the Bloodline Curse upon, and what you want to do…and voila! Your curse is hereditary for your victim and his family."

"Impressive," Malfoy said, thawed out. "I think I might like to become a Cursemaster."

"No," Morty said. "You'd regret it."

"How could I?" Malfoy argued. "You said you love your job!"

"I'm nothing like you," Morty answered back, "and you've got to take the job seriously—"

"Why?" Malfoy fired back.

"If you kid around," Morty said, getting a bit impatient, "then you'll never be good at breaking and placing Curses. Now, we're not going to test the Bloodlines out in class—oh, stop sighing!—it's too dangerous. We're just taking notes on it, for future reference—"

"But, Professor Skylarke!" Malfoy yelped. "You have power over everyone but Dumbledore in this school, even though you're not the Head of a House or part of the Hawkbane Society. Everyone respects you—" He was interrupted by Morty's grim laughter.

"No…they're afraid of me," Morty said, "and there's a difference."

"I don't see one," Malfoy argued. "Fear over people leads to power."

"That argument would be presented from your Phobomancy teacher," Morty said, "and although Lycaon Fenrir is a good friend of mine, I don't agree with that statement. I believe that respect should be given to others before you expect others to respect you. If that doesn't work, it isn't your fault, but the errors in the ways of others."

"That makes a lot of sense," Rhianna said, sitting in a corner. "You've got my respect, sir."

"And I really appreciate that," Morty added. "However, the teachers dislike me because I have studied, and am now teaching, a very controversial subject. I am glad that Dumbledore has allowed me and a few of my friends to have teaching positions here at Hogwarts; he is a great and well-respected man, in my opinion, and may he still have many years before him. Well, back to being a Cursemaster, Draco…it's not spitting out jinxes and hexes on people you dislike. Most of the time, cursed folk come and pay you to remove their ailments. I'm sure that's unappealing to a fellow such as yourself."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said, "but can I still learn some extra curses after school?"

"I see no harm in that," Morty said, "but if you use one on a fellow student, I'll know. I've got eyes and ears all over the school, and…" the drowsiness had returned, "I manage…to somehow know…when you students are…up…to…no…good and are…trying…to…" He fell down, eyes closed, and didn't get up.

"Professor Skylarke?!" Hermione shouted. "Oh NO! HE'S DEAD!"

Harry looked down to further investigate, and realized that Morty was not dead—as Hermione had so clearly stated—but had collapsed due to exhaustion. '_The sooner Wormtail takes away the Soul-Sucker_,' he thought, '_the better_.' "He's fine," Harry said. "See? He's breathing. I guess he was just tired—"

"But that was an orange Mood Drop he swallowed," Hermione countered. "Those aren't just Energy…orange are for Hyperactivity."

"Maybe he's immune to them," Harry theorized, and that got Hermione to quiet down.

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Harry skipped dinner and decided that he'd test his luck in the Labyrinth once more. The more familiar he became with the placement of the statues and walls, the easier it would be to run through it without getting lost on his way to Fenrir's class. However, he couldn't help but feel two things unsettling; first, that he was being watched by somebody, and secondly, that there were a lot more statues in there than last time.

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_Hello Students...Morty here with another chapter for you! I want to thank everyone who has read the story up to this point, and I especially want to thank everyone who has reviewed...I know that you all are reading, I've 9700 hits to prove it...but only 27 reviews!!! That makes me so sad. Please take the time to let me know what you think about the story, good or bad, but please use the private messenger to flame me about something. I honestly do want to know what you all think. Oh, one more thing...there are 50 chapters total to this story, so we're going to be winding down here shortly. Ok, enough of this! Oh, a huge thanks to Nita for formatting and posting this story to the net for me. Any questions about the story can be asked of her, especially if you can't get a hold of me. Her fan fic name is NitaPotter. Thank you again everyone. Love live Nemesarium!!!! Caio! Mortimer Skylarke_


	35. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Beastie's Homework Help

"Something's in the Labyrinth," Harry said to Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean in the dormitory. "I went out there to get familiar with the corridors, so I won't accidentally be late for Fenrir's class up in the Aerie, and I felt like something was watching me."

"Maybe it was the gorgonix," Neville theorized. "It's dark and confusing in those halls…an easy place for somebody to fall down and be eaten…and nobody'd know for days."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said sarcastically. "I was just in there."

"And I'm glad you got out without being killed!" Neville added. "Harry, that place is dangerous! I mean, we can't be running around in there…without protection…"

"Neville," Seamus said, laughing, "you sound like Professor Lethe, and we all know what a scaredy cat _she_ is. She'd cower before her own shadow and swear it was the Grim Reaper." There were a lot of laughs from that comment, and Seamus continued the jokes; he was on a roll. "I mean, really; if you told her dust bunnies were under her chair, she'd keel over and beg someone to get them out…saying that they're bad luck or something just as ridiculous...Harry, I think the time you mentioned You-Know-Who in her class—by name—she about went into a permanent fit of insanity…she ran out of the room, running as if her hair were on fire."

"Scaredy cat," Ron repeated, "Yeah, there's no phrase that sums up Lethe better than that."

"Professor Lethe isn't that bad," Neville said. "I think she's nice."

"I think she's a headache waiting to happen," Ron said. "Two days ago, at the Quidditch game, she kept hitting me in the head with the Quaffles, and I think she was doing it on purpose. I'm still a little sore." Seamus laughed and tried to ruffle Ron's hair, but Ron whacked Seamus first. "Cut that out; it hurts when you or anyone else does that."

After a bit more discussion, everyone decided to go to sleep, although it took Harry an extra hour to reach that point of sleep where he found himself in a rather disturbing dream sequence.

_He dreamt that he was in an enormous gothic-looking metropolis with worn stone buildings everywhere…it was all wizarding architecture, and nothing too modern was there, save the neon lights, television screens, and a few other highlights of international contemporary culture. Harry saw himself walking down the streets with his parents and Sirius, but everyone seemed to have something a little off about them; as if there was no blood running through the veins. Snow fell down continuously, and smoke was rising off in a corner. Harry looked around some more, and saw Darius, dressed all in white (which made him blend in perfectly with the rime), arms outstretched, swaying as if he were being held by some wavering invisible hand. _

"_This is my world," Darius whispered in Harry's mind, yet his lips didn't move, nor his eyes come in contact. "Nobody surpasses me here…not you, not the Dark Lord. Death is something I can give and take away, since I am the Great Necromancer." With those words, Darius began to dance wildly in that circle, singing some rather enigmatic tune:_

_Oh, angels dark, and angels light_

_Take the souls of day and night_

_They'll come to me with tearstained face_

_And ask to go to the good place_

_Yet for my power, and for my ways_

_Into their eyes I never gaze_

_I am the shadow, although pale_

_And may my conquest never fail_

_To rid this world of death and pain_

_So misery stays never again_

_One day, I hope, this fear shall pass_

_And to this wish, I raise my glass." _

_Darius raised a crystal goblet, filled with blood, toward a statue of a pewter spider, with an onyx globe in the center, which looked a lot like the Nemesarium symbol. _

_There was more to the dream, _but Harry awoke to find that it was Friday…and his roommates were getting dressed. "What's on the schedule today?" Harry asked.

"Breakfast, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Lunch, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," was Dean's reply. "We're not having too many classes today; the teachers are dismissing class early so they can go to the funerals…we were supposed to have Exorcism after Defense Against the Dark Arts…but Professor Fallowin is going to the Fenrir funerals."

"I like Fallowin," Ron said. "He's pretty cool."

"I agree," said Seamus. "Last time I talked to him, he said he was considering a field trip…an overnight one. Said we were going to be staying at the Wit's End and heading out to the houses of possessed folk to watch him vanquish bad spirits."

"That's a talent right there," Harry said. "I mean, not too many people bother with an Exorcism anymore because they think there's no need for it. That's why Exorcists make such good money."

"Did Fallowin tell you that?" Ron asked. "I mean, it's true, but…another reason Exorcists make so much is because they put their lives on the line for their customers. It's a life-threatening job, Exorcism. That's one reason why good Exorcists are hard to find."

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The whole day passed rather smoothly, until lunch was over and everyone had to go back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Okay, everyone!" Dr. Hemlock said merrily, obviously in a very good mood. "I managed to make sure that Mitzi Nezura will NOT be replacing me as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am here to stay until something really bad happens to me, or I retire." There were several sighs of relief. "Today, we're going to be discussing the changes in these graphs…showing the number of units that each student is required to gain throughout their seven years here at Hogwarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's a separate chart over here," she pointed at another one almost identical, only a steeper curve between Years Six and Seven, "which shows you what a _Hawkbane_ student is supposed to achieve. Now, as you can see, it's CLEARLY going up, unless you failed or skipped a year."

"How nice," Cassandra said, looking at the chart. "Mine's rising at a steep curve."

"Well, that indicates you're a good student, like Miss Granger over here," Dr. Hemlock said, turning toward Hermione. "I think you're the best one in Defense Against the Dark Arts, next to Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Professor Hemlock!" Hermione cheered, looking up from her book.

"Thanks for what?" Dr. Hemlock replied, having a senior moment. "Ah…er…back to the graph, then?" She walked up to the front and said, "To determine your performance in here, there are two ways to do it. Miss Snape, what's one way?"

"Specific points on the gridlines and estimation," Cassandra said in a very flat tone, "as if it were any other graph."

"Erm…yeah…that'd do it," Dr. Hemlock said, looking around. "Now, from someone who rarely contributes to this class…tell me…_anyone_…what's the other way?" There was utter silence. "Aw…COME ON!" The professor was jumping up and down, and looked rather silly doing so, causing several students to giggle. "What's so funny, eh?" She hissed, looking serious for a moment, making the giggling students shut up and cower in their seats. That, in turn, made Dr. Hemlock chuckle a bit. "Now, come on…I don't bite." Her eyebrows perked up and she then said, "Are you telling me nobody knows the OTHER way?" Sheer silence. "Very well; I'll show you."

"Thanks, Professor," said Ron. "We clueless students are glad you're showing us another way to do this pointless thing."

"It's not pointless," Dr. Hemlock said. "It's showing you…well…alright…I guess it IS pointless…I'm going to finish this thing anyway, though, whether you like it or not, Mr. Weasley." She got up onto a stool and began drawing on the graph. "Now, tell me, what am I going to be putting here?" Silence again. "Seriously, people, TAKE A BLOODY GUESS!" Still utter silence. "I guess I'll toss you a clue, then," she said, looking exasperated. "It's getting close to Valentine's Day, although we might not celebrate it. What do you think of when you hear the word Cupid?"

"Love!" Ron shouted, along with ten other people.

"Cherubs," Malfoy and a few Slytherins said.

"Lockhart's stupid attempt to have Valentine's Day at Hogwarts four years ago," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"That was INDEED a stupid day," Cassandra agreed with Harry.

"Love!" Hermione added.

"I already said that!" Ron replied.

"None of you are getting it, are you?" Dr. Hemlock asked, beginning to look a tad concerned in a mocking way. "And here I was thinking you poor children were clever."

"Butt cheeks?" guessed Neville, despite the laughter that followed.

"Arrows," Dr. Hemlock said, sighing; "it's ARROWS, you dolts!" She pointed at the graph and, sure enough, there were arrows. "Get it?"

"NO!" the class jokingly said in unison.

"Good grief…" Dr. Hemlock said, squeezing the dry erase marker in one of her sinewy hands, and covering her reddening face with the other. "You're so dimwitted, kids…how'd some of you end up in the Hawkbane program, anyway?"

"We were kidding, Professor," Hermione said. "We understand the graph and arrows just fine. So, can we move on to blocking those Phobomancy techniques?"

"Sure," Dr. Hemlock said, writing some fancy formula on the board. "As Professor Lupin would have shown you three years ago, had you been his Sixth Year class, there is a formula you may use to block the attacks." When she moved away from the board, a mathematical formula was there. "Simple Algebra, everybody; you'll be able to figure it out." And there it was: f2p + p(fa – 7) s. "So, would anyone like to guess what the variables stand for?" Hermione had her hand raised, but so did Jezebel. "Miss Granger, I usually call on you. Miss Smith here hasn't had the chance to answer anything in here…so, Jezebel, dear…go on. What's your assumption?"

"The f was used as the variable for the fear in question, p being presentation, and a being the assumption that it will work," Jezebel said. "Professor Mullins already covered this formula at my old school…last semester." She looked around and grinned, but none of the Hogwarts students were smiling back at her. "What? It's true."

"That _was_ correct, Miss Smith. Now, how about you explain how it works?"

"I…" Jezebel said, looking around nervously, "can't do that, ma'am. I learned the formula, but I never could get it right when given a problem."

"Miss Granger?" Dr. Hemlock said, tapping her foot. "How about you and Miss Snape come up here and work some problems out for us?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "I'd love to!"

"Yes, Dr. Hemlock," said Cassandra.

"But, first, I'm going to ask a few more questions for Miss Smith. Miss Smith, why was the presentation multiplied by the fear and doubled in the first part of the equation, and why was it multiplied by the fear times the assumption minus seven? What is the significance of that seven?" Dr. Hemlock had a smile on her face, pretty similar to the one that Snape got when he intimidated a student into submission. "Come, now; I'm not going to be taking points from you if you get it wrong. I'm just going to explain this formula after you attempt to."

"The presentation can only be amplified by fear, and must be doubled, just in case the first attempt went to waste," Jezebel said in a jittery, unsure voice, "and we have to assume a person is afraid for it to work. The seven represents…er…I dunno…it's just there?"

"Good answer," Dr. Hemlock said. "And the s simply is the solution. Now, for our example. Snape, Granger…up at the board, now. The markers are there for your use. Copy after me for our one example. Let's say our person is agoraphobic, which means he's afraid of wide, open spaces. That is our f in this equation."

"And so our p would be enchanting him into believing he's in a large and empty field?" Cassandra guessed. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss Snape…that would be the p for the equation. Miss Granger, what would the a be?"

"Er…that an empty field would make him afraid?" Hermione guessed.

"Yes!" Dr. Hemlock said. "Maybe you children are smart after all." She looked at how Hermione and Cassandra had worked out the formulas and sighed. "This is all the Ministry of Magic would have taught you about Phobomancy. Now, let's sabotage the math, shall we? We need to make sure that the assumption is wrong."

"This is complicated," complained Lisa.

"So…how about we drop the math entirely and I tell you the little cheater's secret?" Dr. Hemlock said sarcastically. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"YES!" the class cheered.

"Okay," Dr. Hemlock said. "The one thing to sabotage a basic Phobomantic attack is to find something relaxing to meditate upon…and then keep telling yourself it isn't real. Do what you would if you were conjuring up a Patronus Charm—"

"Very few of us can do that!" Lisa spat, "and I'm not one that can!"

"Then try to picture the illusion as just that…an illusion," Dr. Hemlock said. "Sure, it sounds easy, but you'd be surprised how even an amateur can break your concentration. This won't work on Professor Fenrir, but we've got to start with the most basic before I show you how to block stuff like that Portia Cyanis hallucination he presented to all of you on his first day."

Dr. Hemlock had presented a great lesson, and had assigned everyone to work seventeen word problems about the Phobomancy Formula. Everything had really gone smoothly, but Harry needed help with a paper he had due for Snape on Tuesday. He would be too busy to do it, so he was wondering how well he'd have to do on the next test to keep his grade up after receiving a T on his incomplete assignment. The thoughts of Potions made him sick; he couldn't stand Snape.

"You've been rather passive lately," Cassandra said. "I can't blame you; so much has been going on. Is there something that troubles you?"

"Yes," Harry said, looking down. He didn't think Cassandra would be helpful right now.

"Is it about Naomi?" she asked.

"Not anymore," Harry said. "I don't have the time to write that paper for your uncle."

"Oh," Cassandra said afterwards. "I know how to solve that problem easily."

"You do?" Harry asked. "How? I mean, you're not the kind who'd write it _for_ me. I mean, even _Hermione_ won't do that for anyone…no matter how much they're willing to pay her."

"You're on the right track. I'll help you get it done, but you're not going to have to pay _me_ to do it…you're going to pay someone else to do it for you," Cassandra said. "When I've got Nemesarium and Vampires Anonymous, I can't always write my papers…so there's someone who looks at how you write, and writes custom papers just as you would. I found out about this talent of Beastie's one day when I was in the bathroom to work on a translation of some Nostradamus prophecy to English. I was in the middle of it, not really having the time to do it, and Beastie offered to finish it for me—as I would have written it anyway—if I gave him an orange." She grinned and said, "Needless to say, I got my usual grade."

"That's great!" Harry said. "I can sneak an orange from the kitchen, and…where IS Beastie?"

"I don't really know," said Cassandra. "Just check the loo. He's bound to be in one of them."

Harry took Cassandra's advice, and went down to the kitchen to get an orange from Dobby. "Dobby?"

"Yes, Harry Potter?" Dobby asked. "Still mad at Dobby about letting Peter Pettigrew into Hogwarts?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I was wondering if I could buy an orange from you."

"Buy? From Dobby?" Dobby inquired as he went over to a fruit basket and fished out an orange. He handed it to Harry and laughed a bit. "Oh, Harry Potter doesn't need to buy from Dobby! Dobby will give Harry Potter the orange for free, since Harry Potter is a great and wonderful friend."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, putting the orange in his pocket. "Is there anything you'd like me to get you?"

"Um…not that Dobby can think of at the moment," Dobby said, and then smiled some more. "Well…off to work it is, then. Good luck in finding Beastie…that's who the orange is for, right?"

"Right," Harry said. "Have a good night, Dobby."

"You too, Harry Potter," Dobby said, walking off.

After Dobby left, Harry walked around the halls, knowing he had at least another three hours until dinner. It was rather nice to be walking around on an early Friday afternoon without missing any class. He was sure his fellow classmates felt the same way, since the majority of students had just begun their final two-hour class for the week. He could see Ron and Hermione talking to Cassandra about something off in a corner, but decided it wasn't really that important. The hallways were mostly cleared, so it gave Harry easy access to practically every bathroom in the castle that students had access to.

While in the middle of his escapade, Hedwig flew through one of the open windows and handed Harry a letter. "Thanks, girl," Harry said, giving Hedwig a treat. "I'll read it later." He placed the letter in his other pocket, and kept looking around. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he got into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Myrtle, are you in here?"

"Yes…as usual," Myrtle griped.

"I was wondering if you knew where Beastie is," Harry said. "I really need to find him…it's important. Could you be a pal and help me out?"

"Okay," Myrtle said. "Um…he was in here about fifteen minutes ago to talk to me about what's going on with my remaining family. They're in a nursing home now, you know…getting old. Well, he left and said he was heading for the bathroom on the fifteenth floor."

"Which one?" asked Harry. "Boys or girls?"

"I think he said he was heading into the boys room," said Myrtle. "That floor isn't the best one to be walking down, though. That's where Cora Fenrir got mangled."

"I really need to see Beastie, Myrtle," Harry said.

"Oh, okay," Myrtle said, and then smiled a bit. "And if you die…well…sharing my toilet is still an option."

"Thanks," Harry said, leaving the bathroom. He walked up the stairs for a few more stories, until he reached the top floor. It was very bright up there, and the floor was covered with the same plush white carpet Darius had in his quarters. Suddenly, Harry realized something…there were no classrooms on this floor; this was the floor for the teachers' quarters! Little plaques were by each door and had a different name on it. There was one that read "Juno Lethe & Constanza Talus", another that read "Minerva McGonagall", and yet another that read "Lucinda Snitchgrass"…

After looking around for a while, Harry decided to search for the men's room. It was rather easy to find, since it was at the very end of the hall, next to a room labeled "Leisure Room." He opened the door, and walked in to find Beastie, laughing and pointing at a closed cubicle. Somebody was in there. "Beastie, I'm not kidding around," said Aurelius. "I'm stranded, and I need some toilet paper!"

Beastie continued to laugh, and sang a rather humorous little ditty:

"Stranded…

Stranded on the Toilet Bowl…

What will you do when you're stranded

And you don't have a roll?

If you're a man, you'll wipe it with your hand!

If you're a nut, you'll leave it on your butt!

Oh…you're stranded

Stranded on the Toilet Bowl…"

And after he opened his mouth to sing the next stanza, Aurelius noticed that someone else was in there. "Hey, er…who's in here?"

"It's me, Harry," Harry said. "Need some paper?"

"Yes," Aurelius said. "I've been stuck here for ten minutes, waiting for this little monster to quit picking fun at me and simply toss me the roll."

"Here," Harry said, tossing the roll of toilet paper into Aurelius's closed cubicle. "That should do it."

"Ah…yes," Aurelius said, coming out as he flushed the commode. "Thanks, Harry. You did your good deed for the day." He walked out and said, "Well, from looking at how I'm dressed, I guess you can tell I best be off on my way for Cora's funeral." He walked out, in a tuxedo, and closed the door.

"Needed something, stink King?" Beastie asked Harry.

"Oh, cut that out. Loxias put Epsom salt on my doughnut…I couldn't help it," Harry said. "My _name_ is Harry."

"I know," Beastie said, showing off rows-upon-rows of sharp needle-ish teeth in his smile. "You're just fun to tease, that's all. I know I can get a rise out of you." He pulled himself out of the toilet and yawned. "So…what brought you to me this time?"

"Homework help," Harry said. "I need you to write a paper on the magical purpose of nettles and sandspurs in my style. You can do that, right?"

"That wouldn't be hard for me to do…I could have it done in an hour, probably," Beastie said, and then outstretched a very greedy-looking scaly claw. "But, you've got to pay me." Harry handed him the orange, and Beastie's eyes lit up in glee. "Thanks! I'll get to work on it right away…I'll copy your handwriting and everything!"

"Thanks a lot," Harry said, grinning. "I really owe you one."

"You gave me an orange," Beastie said, peeling his treasured fruit. "You owe me nothing."

"Do I have to come up here to get it?" Harry asked. "Where can I get the finished paper?"

"Oh…er…I'll leave it on your bed," Beastie said. "Like I did for Cassandra that one time."

Harry left the bathroom in a very happy mood, and walked all the way down to the Special Interest Library on the Third Floor…to find it was no longer there. However, Fluffy was back, in the form of a statue. The trapdoor was still there, but there was now a rusty lock on it. Harry inspected it much closer, to find a small brass plate had been added that read "**Before you Ask of Me the Question, Know Yourself Heart and Soul**" in very stark letters. He could hear somebody screaming in there, and somebody else chanting. Afraid that the screamer might be a friend of his, Harry tried to open the trapdoor, but to no avail. Almost as immediately as it had begun, the screaming stopped. A little scared, Harry walked out of there…and just before he closed the door, he heard a dog bark. "Belvedere," he said, rolling his eyes, as he walked out. Suddenly, Ebonyste's dog came running to Harry, yapping like a Chihuahua…Belvedere didn't bark, but yap, so he wasn't the dog down there. Perplexed by the unwitnessed events going down in that chamber, Harry decided he'd best be heading off to eat dinner.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"So…you got your paper finished?" Hermione asked Harry. "I'm impressed!"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a stab at his salmon steak, "me too."

"I saw the strangest, most disgusting thing wandering around the corridors today after Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Cassandra. "It was like a Necromancy experiment gone horribly wrong…there was this man, walking down the halls, but he looked like he'd been in the rot box for about twenty years. He smelled horrible, too…and approached me."

"Not now," Ron said, chewing on some corn-on-the-cob, "we're all trying to eat."

"But he knew about the gorgonix," Cassandra said, blinking. "He said he used to have one."

"That was Tybalt Tellulan," responded Harry. "He wasn't lying to you."

"Tellulan, eh?" Cassandra said. "The name sounds familiar."

"It should," Harry said. "Until Trelawney made that prediction about me, people thought he would be the one to stop Voldemort. Turned out he was insane and went on a killing spree, yet never got caught until your uncle and Professor Skylarke caught him attacking Aldebaran Black. Your uncle killed Tellulan."

"Don't say that out loud!" Cassandra hissed. "Keep it under low profile."

"Oh," Harry said, sipping on his tea, "I can do that."

"So, did Beastie help?" asked Cassandra.

"Yes," Harry said. "Very much so."

"Did Darius tell you what he's been up to?" Cassandra inquired. "He's been busy."

"With Sargon," Harry answered, "I know."

"It's been such a hard week for all of us, hasn't it?" Hermione said. "So much has happened, and not all of it was good."

"Not all of it was bad, either," Cassandra argued. "Dr. Hemlock kept Nezura out of office."

"I LIKE Nezura, Cassandra," Ron said. "I thought you did too."

"No," Cassandra said, "she's pro-Slayer. Dr. Hemlock has written one thing for her audience, yet believes in another. Besides, you've got to agree Nezura wasn't the best teacher we've had for Defense Against the Dark Arts. That'd have to go to either Dr. Hemlock or Lupin."

"I'd say Lupin, then," Ron said. "I don't care what Dr. Hemlock says…he'd have never given us math problems."

"I believe he would," Hermione said. "If you're going to cover the unit on how to stop Phobomancers from taking advantage of you, you've got no other choice than to teach that formula. Get used to it, Ron; that formula's going to be on our next test." She grinned and said, "They weren't all that bad; were they, Cassandra?"

"Nope," Cassandra replied, sticking a bit of chocolate sundae pie in her mouth, "not at all."

"Yeah, well you two are smart," Ron argued.

"And you're not?" Hermione asked. "Ron, you're in Hawkbane too."

"She's got a point, you know," Harry said.

"What I don't get is how you managed to finish that essay so quickly," Hermione said. "You didn't work on it at all this week until now, it's supposed to be seven feet long, and I saw you walking down the halls a couple of times before we came in here."

"Trust me, it's finished," Harry stated. "Cassandra, where'd you get that pie?" Cassandra pointed over to the teachers' table, right in front of Snape's seat. "Never mind."

"I don't fancy the Americans," Ron said. "They're a rowdy bunch. I think I'll only be getting along with Serena, and that's because she's nice. I mean, Shaquan's rude, immature, and I can only understand half of what he's saying."

"That's better than me," Cassandra said. "I don't even know what 'man, yo' means."

"It's just slang, I guess," Hermione replied, "But I haven't the foggiest what it means."

"Then again, I think I really want that pie after all," Harry said, getting up. Then he saw the scowl on Snape's face, seeing the professor was obviously in a very foul mood…fouler than usual. That made him rethink his action, so he sat down.

"You want it, yet you sit down?" Cassandra asked, sniggering. "Why don't I go over there and get you a slice of the pie?"

"I'd like that," Harry said. "Would you please?"

"Sure," Cassandra answered, walking over there with a plate. Snape just looked at her without saying anything. "Sorry to disturb your meditation of sulk, but a classmate of mine asked for a slice of the pie." She cut a slice, and placed it on Harry's plate. "Er…how was the funeral?"

"Lycaon spent a small fortune on the both of them," Snape answered. "It was a nice service, and everything. His remaining daughter, Marpessa, took everything rather well…but you'd have thought a part of Lycaon had died with his girls. I haven't seen him cry since Ariel died."

"He can _cry_?" Cassandra asked, and blinked. "No…surely not _Professor Lycaon Fenrir._"

"I kid you not," Snape said. "The man was in tears." He looked at his shoulder and said, "And I was the closest shoulder for him to cry on, so I ended up being a sob-mop." He scowled. "Tell your little friend who wanted the pie that he or she can have the whole thing. It's not like I'm going to eat it."

"Okay," Cassandra replied, taking the whole pie. "Give my best to Professor Fenrir if you see him before I do…and I hope tomorrow's better for you."

"I hope so too," agreed Snape, who opened up one of Dr. Hemlock's books…'1001 Ways to Torment Your Nemesis'.

Cassandra came back to the table and said, "Okay, Harry. Here's your pie."

"I just wanted a slice," Harry said. "You didn't have to bring the whole bloody thing!" Cassandra shrugged and helped herself to a second slice. "Thanks anyway."

After dinner, Harry was in no rush to head back to the Gryffindor Common Room. He went back to the Third Floor, and into the forbidden area from six years ago yet again. The brass plate was still there, but the lock was gone. There were the sounds of a dog in pain coming from down there, and then yelps switched over to human screams. "Ah…that seemed to have worked _quite_ well on you," said a familiar voice. "Don't worry; one of these days, I'll be able to take all the pain and discomfort out of my work. But it's been like this for millennia, so I doubt that'll be any time soon. For your screams, you have my deepest apologies."

"You rotten creature…" Harry heard the other voice say. Suddenly, it clicked to him in his mind who it was down there. "Darius, what did you do to me?"

"Sirius!" Harry shouted, not caring _what_ Darius was doing down there, or was capable of doing; he just wanted to get Sirius out. "Sirius, I'm coming!" He opened the door, and climbed down. Darius was there in front of him, but something was horribly wrong with how he looked…his skin had color to it, and his hair was down to the shoulders only…and wavy. "Hold on…you're not Darius," Harry said. He looked over at Sirius, and—sure enough—it was Sirius. He turned back to face the Darius-mockery and noticed it had shifted into Tellulan, and then hopped out of there. "What was that?"

"The gorgonix," Sirius stated in a rather wavered voice. "Harry, I'm not alive…I'm just a projection of my soul from the Necropolis. Look…there's no way out of here…except the one I'm going to use to help you…" The Sirius-image faded away, and looked surprised as it did so. Another image followed, and this one looked a lot more like Professor Lewn. "YOU'RE STUCK HERE!" It even sounded like her.

The laughter whirled around Harry like a breeze would, and the scenery changed from the cold stone walls of an abandoned school chamber to the bleak and dismal metropolis he had dreamed about. Sirius was standing there, looking very much dead, and stretched out his hand so Harry would be able to grab it. "I lured you here to stop the gorgonix from hurting you…this will get you back to school after I guide you through here—"

"The Necropolis?" Harry said, stating it like a question. "What is—"

"It means 'City of the Dead', and that is where your parents and I are staying in Death. It's what some people in various cultures have called the Underworld," Sirius explained. "Eventually, Harry, you'll be coming here to stay…but this isn't your scheduled trip. You'll hardly remember anything about it once you wake up."

"I'm dreaming?" Harry asked. "But I'm perfectly awake, and—"

"You transcend from that point in time between sleep and consciousness in here," Sirius said rather sadly. "I was very glad to see James and Lily again, and Remus for a while, but hardly anything good happens down here. It's like living in a city of the living, only that it's run by one authority who reminds me a _lot_ of Voldemort."

"Who?" Harry asked. "Who is it?"

"Darius Ahsimal," Sirius said, "my old Necromancy teacher."

"Darius?!" Harry asked. "But he's alive!"

"He's undead, you mean," Sirius corrected. "Darius hasn't been technically alive for nearly ten thousand years. Look, he decides who stays, and who leaves…and although this place offers a lot, everyone wants to leave. If I were Catholic, I'd assume this to be limbo." He looked up and groaned. "Drat…here comes that bloody snow again." Harry looked up as well to see Sirius had been telling the truth. "You'd think you couldn't feel things in death…but you can."

"Are my parents here?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Sirius answered. "I thought I'd let you talk to them for a while before I take you back—"

"I'm dead?" Harry blanched at the thought.

"No," Sirius said. "You're very much alive." A very gaunt man with dark red hair and icy blue eyes passed by, wearing a pinstripe suit…he looked a lot like an older version of Morty with a goatee. "Hello, Balthazar!" Sirius shouted. "Still looking for Diana?"

"No," said Balthazar Skylarke. "I found her…I'm just waiting for my damn son to hurry up and die so I can teach him a lesson." He scowled and added, "Oh, I'm heading over to the department store after that. Would your mother be interested in accompanying me?"

"How should I know?" Sirius snapped back. "I don't keep in touch with her!" Balthazar walked off, grumbling something under his breath. Sirius whispered to Harry, "People here are much more depressing than they were in real life…unless you have a few friends to hang out with. Then it isn't so bad." He led Harry down a few streets (Harry recognized Naomi Fenrir standing by a streetlight), and then stopped at an apartment building. It was called Carrion Heights, and a skeleton wearing a tuxedo was on the front sign. "Ah, yes…here we are."

"They live here?" Harry asked, looking at the upscale apartment, and couldn't help but think his parents had lived in Godric's Hollow…an actual _house _and not an apartment complex.

"Everyone in the Necropolis dwells in one of these," Sirius said. "Even I do…but I guess you could say none of us are actually living here."

"Eh?"

"Oh, nothing," Sirius said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I was just making a pun." They went inside, and Harry was seriously reminded of Darius's Necromancy classroom…the chandelier was exactly the same, black candles lit in the arraignment of human skeletons. A stout, friendly-looking woman with a lot of cats was sitting behind the front counter. "Hello, Lizzie."

"Hello, Sirius," Lizzie said in response. "Brought a guest?"

"I guess you could say that," Harry said. "I wanted to find out where two people are living."

"Nobody's living here," said Lizzie.

"But this is an apartment complex!" Harry retorted. "Surely people live here."

"Er…no, not really," answered Lizzie. "They _reside _here, but they don't live here—"

"It's the same bloody thing!" Harry was getting a bit annoyed.

Lizzie just petted one her cats (a plump Persian cat) and said, "When you're alive, there's no difference. There's very few people—save Ahsimal and his Necromancers—who can truly live in the Necropolis."

"I'm living here for the time being," Harry said, "I'm not dead yet."

"Uh huh," Lizzie said, and then turned to Sirius. "Poor child; he's in denial."

"No, he's telling the truth," Sirius said. "He isn't dead yet."

Suddenly, a married couple came down the stairs. "Sirius, what's going on down here? You were supposed to meet up with us fifteen minutes ago."

"Sorry, Lily," Sirius said, "but Harry showed up pretty much out of nowhere."

"You mean to tell me that Voldemort's running amok in the living world, terrorizing God-know-how-many?" James groaned. "So, Harry…you're dead like us?"

"It's not that we don't want to see you," Lily said. "But we're upset you died so soon—"

"No need to be upset," Harry said, "because I'm still alive."

"What a relief," James said, smirking. "Once you die, feel free to stick around with your Mum and Dad all you like, okay? We love you very much." Lizzie was cackling in the corner, pointing at the reunion and making jokes. "Oh, shut up, Liz. When your grandmother finally dies—how old is she now? A hundred and twenty?—I'd just love to see the look on your face so I can laugh right back at you!" Lizzie shut up, and pretended to read a magazine after that.

"You'll be returning soon, though, right?" Lily asked Harry. "I mean, would you like a quick tour of some of the local areas?"

"It can be rather pretty out here," James said, and then went outside. "Hey, SIRIUS! I'm making snowballs…and I'm going to pummel you."

"Oh, really?" Sirius replied, and went outside as well. "Not if I can hurl a big one at you first! Prepare yourself, James, for the snow fight of your…er…afterlife!" After a while, Lily joined in too, but Harry didn't see the appeal; he had been in snow fights for the past six years. "Harry, quick! I need somebody on my team!" Sirius shouted…"They've ganged up on me!"

_Hi everyone. I know that the site has been messed up for a while, so I'll forgive you all for not reviewing the last two chapters that much. But please, do review now!! I really do want to know what you all think about the story so far...also...there are a few more surprises coming up soon, so stay with me!! Until next time, I remain yours...Professor Skylarke_


	36. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five:

Live at the Necropolis

"Okay," Harry said, scooping up a handful of snow and tossing it at his parents. James tossed one back. "He's pretty good," he said under his breath…

"Where'd you think you got it from?" James asked, hurling another one. "Your mother? Ow…why'd you elbow me, sweetheart?" he asked Lily. They then broke out into a tickling fight, which gave Harry and Sirius the opportunity to toss an enormous snowball at them. "HEY! Okay, you guys win." They laughed a bit, brushing the snow off of themselves.

"That was rather fun," Lily said, laughing a bit. "Er…well…I'm not sure what we can do until you go back to the world of the Living, Harry…but we really were glad you came to visit…"

Harry smiled back at his parents, and then the memory of somebody else's memory rose to the surface of his mind. '_I need to find out why he did it,_' Harry thought to himself. "Er…Dad?"

"Yes?" James said, looking a bit eager to see what Harry had to say. "Something wrong?"

"You're not going to believe who's teaching me Potions," Harry said, trying to start the topic in that direction.

"Would it be Severus Snape, by any chance?" Lily asked, interrupting. Harry nodded.

"Ugh…" James said. "I already knew Snivellus was teaching up there, but I'm sorry there's no way for you to evade his nasty, greasy presence."

"I sneaked a glance into his Pensieve," Harry said, "and…er…viewed his worst memory…"

"Oh, really?" James asked. "Was I in it?" Harry nodded, and the smile broadened. "What was I doing? I want details, Harry…what'd I do to scar up that loser?"

"You humiliated him in front of all those people, remember?" Lily hissed. "Harry, I think your father needs to tell you why he liked picking on Snivellus…er…_Severus_ so much."

"He was just the scummiest little twit you could possibly imagine," James said, "and ever since my first day at Hogwarts, he put his nose where it didn't belong…in my business. I set things straight, but he kept on countering it and trying to get the upper hand. After a while, he got on not only my nerves, but irritated the bloody mess out of my best friends. A little bit later, by the time school was becoming a bit more serious, Snivellus was the butt of most of our jokes."

"Still is, to an extent," Sirius added. "I mean, really—"

"Ah, yes…what a lovely day to be strolling about, knowing that your loved ones miss you, where people still have a pulse…" said a very grim-looking passerby. The fellow had very pale, and slightly transparent, skin with a faint hint of a gangrenous jade hue in it; pale yellow eyes which had bloodshot veins showing through; and a very sinewy face, as if there was very little muscle left on him…as if he were literally skin and bones. He was dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of trousers, and carried a suitcase with him…his silver hair dangling about him…one of the few things that still looked alive. "Oh; Lily, James, Sirius…how's it going?"

"It's going just fine, Wolfe," James said, and dragged the walking corpse over toward the group. "Harry, this is someone I'd like you to meet. This is Wolfe Leir—"

"Professor Leir?!" Harry was astonished at what death had done to Leir; he looked nothing like the girl-magnet who had taught Manipulations until Parenein had him strangled to death…at first. Then Harry looked closer, and had to stop himself from throwing up; it was Leir, alright.

"Oh, hi Harry," Leir said. "Hold on…now I know _you_ can't be dead yet!"

"I'm not," Harry said. "Sirius…er…well—"

"I brought him here," Sirius said. "Wolfe, you're looking a little on the skinny side. What's going on?" He pointed at Wolfe, and Harry gagged; he could smell the rotting flesh.

"Apparently, someone's trying to bring me back to life," stated Wolfe. "I bet it's Christine and Malachi; they were very sad at my funeral—"

"They're doing a rather crappy job, Wolfie," James said, elbowing Leir. "Tell them to hire a professional before you end up like that poor Skylarke guy."

"You mean Morty?" Sirius and Harry asked at the same time.

"Hold on," Harry said. "Sirius, you know Morty?"

"How could I not?" Sirius asked. "It's rather difficult to not know Morty and have gone to Hogwarts around the same time as him. The professors wouldn't shut up about him."

"Oh, yeah…the auburn kid with the glasses," James said. "For a Slytherin underclassman, he wasn't that bad…never gave Sirius, Remus, Peter and me any trouble." He turned to Sirius and said, "Wasn't he the one that helped Peter get out of the trash can?"

"I think so," Sirius said. "The thing that comes to my mind when I hear the name 'Morty Skylarke', is when the Death Eaters held that Raid the same night Voldemort murdered you two, and tried to kill Harry."

"We weren't alone?" Lily asked. "The Skylarkes died that night too?"

"That's what happened," Sirius said. "It was in the Daily Prophet the next day, a double header." He looked at his watch, and sighed. "Er…Harry…I think it's about time for you to be heading back to the world of the living."

Harry felt a sickening sensation in his stomach, and a fatigued feeling in his head…as if he were about to pass out. With that, he fell into unconsciousness, but brushed up against Sirius in the process.

Hours later, Harry woke up in his own bed, and felt something warm in the bed with him. He looked under the covers, and—sure enough—there was a large black dog, snoozing.

_**hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp**_

"I don't _know_ how I did it, Darius!" Harry said. "It just…happened. I was awake one minute, and then I drift off, and when I wake up, he's alive and well."

"Well, _I_ didn't do it," Darius said, looking confused, "and Sargon's fit only to aid…he'd never try to perform a Resurrection, even if it _was_ me." Suddenly, a grin spread across his feminine face. "Oh, I know! You must be a Sleepwalking Necromancer!"

"What?" Harry repeated. "Sleepwalking Necromancer… what is that?"

"You must have Resurrected this friend of yours in your sleep," Darius said, "because I haven't shown you—or anyone else this year, for that matter…save Cassandra—how to Resurrect the Dead. I mean, sure, there are a few decent Necromancers in this school, but none of them—except Morty, because I think he was the best student I ever had—would even consider Resurrecting somebody like Sirius Black."

"You wouldn't?"

"Well," Darius said, "he was into the Slayer stuff for a while, and stabbed me with a wooden stake. Am I supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy toward someone like that? If you answer that with a yes," he said jokingly, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to smack some sense into you."

"Could you show me how to bring back the Dead?" Harry asked. "Darius, I'd really like to know."

"No," Darius said. "I'll tell you when I feel you're ready for it…but you're not ready for that sort of responsibility."

"I've got the responsibility of the entire Wizarding World resting on my shoulders," Harry said, a bit annoyed with Darius's reasoning. "I think I can handle a little Necromancy without any trouble, thank you very much."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Darius said. "You don't know what garbage you could let out of there if you're not careful…sure, you can bring back the Dead, but there are several complications that can happen. You can botch it, and accidentally ruin the person you were trying to return to you, return them but forget to stop and revert the decomposition, and sometimes…" Darius shivered in fear, "other beings come out."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, and then skeptically added, "evil spirits?"

"YES!" Darius said, looking horrified. "An amateur could unleash pandemonium on the living if he's not careful, which is why I am afraid to tell you how to bring people back to life. There are…things…that could really destroy everything good in this world. This is some of the stuff I encountered early on in my career…at one time, I accidentally wiped out an entire civilization. I'm sure you've heard of Atlantis and what happened there…it was a total disaster."

"I can imagine," Harry said. "The entire civilization sunk to the bottom of the ocean—"

"And what happened on the Mary Celeste…" Darius said, burying his face in his hands.

"You did that?" Harry asked, shocked.

"No," Darius said, "but I put an end to the loser who did. Even the Dark Lord knew better than to toy with the Dead without gradually learning the way to do things. I taught him, by the way…he was a very bright student, very fascinated with my class…like you."

"Let's get back to Sirius, shall we?" requested Harry. "Do you know how I did that?"

"You either performed the Resurrection Incantation, used a Necromantic tool of the trade—which you wouldn't have access to unless I supplied you with it—or dragged him accidentally into the world of the Living when you returned from your Near-Death Experience," Darius said, and grinned. "Congratulations, Harry. I never had a Near-Death Experience, except when my maker bit me, drained me, and transformed me into the man I am today. Do you know what having a Near-Death Experience means?"

"That I almost died, I guess," Harry took a stab at it, hoping his Hawkbane Session would end soon so he could get back to Sirius before somebody noticed an alleged serial killer in his bed.

"Oh, sure," Darius said, laughing. "State the obvious, why don't you? Besides that, having an encounter like that and coming out unscathed shows you have the potential to become a truly powerful Necromancer…like me. Have you given what I do as a job any thought of possibility?"

"Not really," Harry answered truthfully, "but it did run across my mind a couple of times. Your class is one of the more interesting ones, and I think it's not a Dark Art like people say."

"Thanks for defending it," Darius said. "Creepy, it might be, but Dark? No…not unless you abuse it…and that goes for _any_ form of magic. Could you bring Sirius in here this evening so I can inspect him and clear up any little problems that might have arose when he returned? In the first few days of coming back to life, complications can be mended…Marullus didn't find me until a whole month had passed by, and it was too late by that point."

"Who's Marullus?" asked Harry.

Darius looked at his Dark Mark, and rolled down his sleeve, sounding rather nervous, "Oh, nobody, Harry…Marullus was…er…just this other vampire I knew from a few years ago..."

"He was another Death Eater, wasn't he?" Harry asked.

"I hate to talk about the subject," Darius said icily. "Harry, bad stuff happened to me while I was in there, and I'd love to keep those corners of my mind in the dark. I told you to keep my past a secret, didn't I? How come Turpin came up to me and asked, 'Is it true, Professor Ahsimal? Were you really a Death Eater two years ago?'" He looked much more darkly at Harry. "Why'd you spill it, eh? I asked you to keep it under wraps…I even warned you not to…" Harry was backing up, but when he got to the door, he discovered it was locked. "Does Granger know? Does Weasley?"

"Not unless _you_ told them," Harry said truthfully. "I told nobody."

"That's a cock-and-bull story right there," Darius said, baring his teeth and coming closer. "Oh, that door's got a spell on it where only I can open it. Try any trick in the book, Harry…it won't open until we get this settled once and for all. If I find out that you were the one who sold my secret to the public, I swear by my existence I'll bite you and feed on you…just like I promised."

"But I didn't do that!" Harry spat back. "You told your other Afterlight students, remember? You told Cassandra and Blaise—"

"Cassandra would _never_ spill something like that because she's a Nemesarist like me," Darius said, "and Blaise…er…" he calmed down a bit around Harry and let out a very weak laugh. "Oh, sorry, Harry…I guess it _was_ Blaise. He's a motor-mouth and doesn't know how to keep a bloody secret. Speaking of bloody…our little Session's dismissed. Just remember to come back with Sirius before the day is over so I can help your dear friend."

"That cut it short rather quickly," Harry said, looking at Darius, still not sure what to think of him. One part of him still saw parts of the cold-blooded (or rather no-blooded) Death Eater that had been there as recently as two years ago, but the other saw the reforming Necromancer and devoted Nemesarist…which was a more appealing thought to keep about somebody who had helped Harry out of many a sticky situation this year. "Why?"

"Oh, you know," Darius said, smiling to show off his fangs.

"Well, Happy Hunting, Darius," Harry said, walking out the door, which Darius opened.

After leaving Turret Thirteen, Harry noticed Sargon had gone in. However, he didn't stop to have any conversation with the other vampire; Darius was more interesting anyway. The halls were still practically deserted, since it was about four in the morning, and sunrise would not reach the sky for another couple of hours. He went back into the Gryffindor Tower, and back into the Boys' Dormitory, and then beside his bed, to find Sirius was still under the covers. He decided that since everyone else was asleep, it would be alright to go ahead and wake up Sirius, just to let him know what happened. "Sirius," he whispered, shaking the man. "Sirius…"

"Mmm?" Sirius mumbled. "That was a nice…hold on…what am I doing at Hogwarts?"

"Welcome back," Harry said. "You're—"

"You brought me back from the Necropolis?" Sirius asked, looking quite astounded. "Harry, I didn't know Ahsimal had shown you how to do something like that."

"He didn't; it was by accident," Harry said, "but a good accident."

"So…you don't know how I came to be here?" Sirius looked just a little unsure about that. "Um…Harry…Ahsimal's still here, isn't he?"

"Yes, but—"

"I think I might need to see him before the day's over, just in case I end up like Skylarke. You wouldn't like that, now would you? I mean, I could end up looking pretty nasty," Sirius said. "Saw Wolfe, didn't you? Look at what happened to him!"

"You might want to keep it down, Sirius," Harry said, looking a bit nervous. "I would hate for somebody to report you on your way back to the living world."

"Yeah, I'd hate that too," Sirius said. "I think I'll track down Ahsimal and get him to help me get back to my good old self." He shifted back into a dog and walked through the Common Room, and proceeded down the staircase. Harry, however, went back to sleep.

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Six hours later, Harry awoke at ten o' clock, already done with his one weekend duty. Just as promised, Beastie had left the paper on his bed. Making sure nobody was looking at him, Harry put it into his bookbag. "Hi," said the only person left in the room besides Harry. Harry looked around, but couldn't find anybody. "Your Invisibility Cloak works wonders…I have a lot of good memories about this cloak…"

"Oh," Harry said, rolling his eyes, knowing it was Wormtail, "hi."

"I couldn't help but notice Sirius came back," Wormtail said, handing over the Invisibility Cloak. "Er…could you keep my whereabouts secret until he's _not_ trying to kill me?"

Harry sighed in exasperation and said, "Sure. Why not?" in a very unpleasant way.

"Oh, thank you!" Wormtail whispered happily and hugged Harry, who shoved him away. "Er…I…fixed your crystal ball," he said, trying to get a smile out of Harry; no such luck. He pulled it out of a bag and handed it over. "My Auntie said a Soul-Sucking Charm had been put on it. I knew how to fix that, so I did." Harry took one look at that crystal ball, and dropped it in surprise. "Something wrong?"

"There was a face staring back at me!" Harry shouted. "Who _is_ that?"

"How should I know?" Wormtail asked. "I never took Divination or Clairvoyancy."

Harry picked up the crystal ball again, and gazed into it. The face was still staring back at him, grinning. As soon as he figured out who it was, he wanted to vomit. "Voldemort—"

"He can't see you," Wormtail said. "I got Auntie to tweak it…you can see him, but he can't see you on the other end…it's like a Muggle spy-camera. While I was scurrying about the castle, tweaking the mousetraps for a snack, I couldn't help but notice how Adonis Ebonyste was messing with some of the bricks in the walls to spy on nobody but Cassandra Snape whenever she passes by. I think it's horrid how he snoops on her—she hasn't done anything wrong—but I'm a little too scared to go up and confront him…or Sirius."

"How'd you get it to focus on Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"I might not be the smartest man alive, but I know how to do a few off-the-wall things," Wormtail admitted. "Snooping and finding new ways to snoop has always been a skill of mine."

"I can imagine," Harry said, looking through the crystal ball, now vanquished of the Soul-Sucker. "So…Morty won't be falling asleep in class because he's losing his soul anymore?"

"If he falls asleep in class again, it just means he's tired," Wormtail said. "His soul's fine. Mine, on the other hand…I'm trying to save it…"

"Best of luck," Harry said. "Have you apologized to my parents yet…or can you even do that?"

"I've prayed they'd forgive me…and I wrote them once. Your mother forgave me," Wormtail said nervously. "Well, I haven't eaten since yesterday morning, so I'm heading off to the kitchen to see what people left under the table from breakfast." He shifted back into a rat, and scurried out.

Harry walked out of the Gryffindor Tower after that, and met up with Ron and Hermione downstairs, right outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "What a nice Saturday, eh?" he asked. Neither one replied. "Is something wrong?" Hermione looked very graven, and Ron was extremely pale. "What?"

"There's been another attack from the gorgonix," Hermione said, forcing the words out of her mouth. "It was…somebody we know…very well…"

"A student?" McGonagall asked, coming into the conversation. "I see quite a number of people over here…what's going on?"

"It was the gorgonix, Professor!" Neville shouted.

Several students from other Houses had come to see what all the ruckus was about. Snape, Darius, Sprout, and Flitwick elbowed their ways through the crowd to see what had happened, and who the victim was. "It can't be…she showed so much promise as a permanent teacher!" Sprout yelped in surprise.

"It wasn't a student?" McGonagall asked, walking up to the other three Heads of Houses and the Head of the Hawkbane Society. "Who was it?"

"Esmeralda Von Dorian," said Flitwick, "our American guest."

"Oh dear," Snape said. "There's no way to Resurrect her, either." When McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout looked at him in a strange way, he turned to Darius. "Darius, explain the situation."

"She's already been Resurrected three times," Darius said sadly, "and for vampires, that's the limit. Any other times will be of no use and will always come up as a failure." He bit his lip and said, "I'm on my last lifeline, personally. Once I go this time, I'm gone forever, just like Esmeralda."

"An immortal soul is traded for pseudo-immortal existence in this world, Darius?" Sprout asked. "That's horrible!"

"We still have an immortal soul," Darius said, "but it's damned to stay in the Death Realm after a few Resurrections take place. Poor Esmeralda used up all her lifelines during the Undead Rights Movement. Was this all of the attacks?"

"No," said Hermione, coming to the front. "It got Blaise Zabini as well." Harry looked, and—sure enough—Blaise was on the floor, bleeding, and definitely dead. "And…Seamus."

"The death toll keeps rising," said Lethe, coming onto the scene, and looking as white as a sheet. "Let's close the school, for the sake of the people who go here. It isn't safe to stay…we need to get out while we still can!"

"No," Dr. Hemlock said coldly. "We've almost found out who our gorgonix is…if we were to close the school, we wouldn't be able to _ever_ capture it. Besides, only one vampire died there…the students may be Resurrected by Darius—"

"I'm out of my proper materials," Darius stated. "I won't be able to Resurrect anyone for two weeks." But as he saw Blaise down there, a tear or two rolled down his face. "What a pity it couldn't see what a great wizard Zabini was sure to become."

"Darius, please," Snape said, "you're making a scene in front of the students—"

"Not as much as Juno over there," Darius pointed out. "I liked Blaise…he was a wonderful student, and he never was interested in the Slayer's Renaissance propaganda against vampires. He had such a promising future…and here it is, swiped away from him with the claws of a lunatic."

Cassandra finally came down as well, reading a book called '**I Jinx, Therefore I Am**'. "Er…what's going on here? I haven't seen everybody crowding around like this since the Fenrir girls—" she stopped when she saw the bodies. "Finnigan and my second cousin, eh? Well, Esmeralda lived a long life, and Finnigan was good in life; I'm sure he'll be treated nicely in the Death Realm. Was that all?"

"No," said Snape. "Your little friend Zabini died too." Cassandra's face sunk, and she looked as if somebody had just slapped her; there was hurt, and there was shock. "Hold on, what are you doing?" Cassandra was scraping up Blaise's remains and carrying him as if he weren't heavy at all. "He's dead."

"I've got enough knowledge to Resurrect him on my own," Cassandra said, her face sallow from the tears. "I've got the supplies too!" With that, she ran off with Blaise's body. "Tonight, he shall be back to the fun-loving guy Rhianna and I befriended ages ago!"

"I hope that was some sort of fit of denial," Snape said, folding his arms. Darius, however, looked horrified, and chased after Cassandra. "Something wrong?"

"SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO SAFEGUARD A RESURRECTION!" Darius shouted, running as fast as he could. "CASSANDRA! WAIT!!!"

Harry knew he probably wouldn't be able to see Cassandra until evening, but he hoped everything went well for her Resurrection.

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The afternoon was rather grim, but everyone tried their best to not think about all the horror of the late morning. Harry couldn't find Cassandra anywhere, nor Blaise's remains, but Seamus's mother had come to collect _his_ body…and Sargon said he'd handle Esmeralda's corpse and get it back to New England.

At dinner, Harry noticed Rhianna was sitting by herself, looking at a photo tearily. He decided he'd sit at the Slytherin table and see what was going on. "Are you going to be alright?" Harry asked, concerned.

"He was my best friend…" Rhianna said in a very hurt voice. "I mean, he'd never hurt anyone…and he tried his best to be there for people whenever they needed him…such a great guy…why couldn't that damn gorgonix attack someone like Malfoy instead of taking a saint like Blaise?" She looked down at the photo again and began to cry. "I feel horrible. He asked me if I'd go out with him this morning, and I laughed at him and said I wouldn't…" Without any warning, Harry's shoulder became a mop for Rhianna's tears. Several people were staring, but Harry really didn't care; his friend was in serious pain over her loss. "Have you seen Cassandra anywhere?"

"No," Harry said. "She ran off with Blaise's body and I noticed Darius was chasing—"

"He doesn't understand friendship very well," Rhianna said. "I mean, he's lived a long time; I think whatever humanity he used to have died off ages ago. The very concept of friends doesn't seem to register in his mind anymore…except with Snape, Fallowin, Skylarke, and Fenrir…and Cassandra. He doesn't understand how Cassandra and I felt about Blaise. To us, he was what Ron is to you." She looked up at Harry and stared into his eyes with a very frightening look. "How would you feel if earlier, Ron had admitted to something serious, and you laughed it off…and then he ended up being the next victim?" The photo was clutched to her chest. "I never thought I'd cry again…"

"It's okay to cry," said Neville, sitting down as well. "I just lost one of my best friends too."

Harry walked off to let Neville and Rhianna talk things over, and sat back down with Hermione and Ron. "That was horrible," he said. "I can only imagine what Rhianna's going through."

"Did I hear her call Blaise a saint?" Hermione asked. When Harry nodded, she sighed. "Sure, he was nice, but he was far from being saint-like…"

"I'm sure a lot of people at the school are going to be upset over his death," Ron said. "I've already noticed a lot of the Third and Fourth Years putting flowers and other trinkets where Hermione found the body. Some sort of shrine, I guess, to honor him." He looked down at the ground. "Poor chap…I never saw him do anything bad, and I never heard him sass a professor, either."

Hermione, however, looked very shaken. "You don't understand, Ron…I saw more than just Blaise's corpse. He was still _alive_ when I found him, and the gorgonix was still there." Harry and Ron went silent at that, too stunned to even breathe for a moment. "I couldn't get a good look at it at first, because it was dark in the hall and it moved so fast, but it looked like a man with long, wavy hair…and its glasses reflected the light." Her eyes watered as she said, "and then it ran off…but I caught a glimpse of its face as it left. Harry, I hate to tell you this, since you're friends with Skylarke, but I'm absolutely positive HE is the gorgonix…I saw its face, and it was DEFINITELY Skylarke." Ron had begun to breathe again, but Harry was hyperventilating. "And Blaise…he was dying, but he was still alive when I left to go get help. When we came back…he was dead…I'd left him to die all alone…" She wept uncontrollably after that and ran off from the table.

"Harry," Darius said in a very soft, poisonous voice. "Have you seen Cassandra anywhere?"

"No, sir," answered Harry.

"What about you, Weasley? Seen her?"

"Not since she ran off with Blaise's body, sir."

"Drat," Darius said, stomping off. He was wearing a bell bandolier, and a black robe. "Come, Sargon…you and I have a witch hunt to complete." Sargon followed behind silently, looking very wraithlike…and he carried a crucifix in his left hand, clenched tightly.

"That didn't sound good," Ron said. "Do you think we need to track down Cassandra before they do?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Ron, I've got the Cloak with me, in case we need it, and I think I know where they might be heading."

"Where?"

"Where do you _think_ a Necromancer would try to Resurrect a dead person?" Harry asked Ron.

"A cemetery?" Ron guessed, and then he paused.

"St. Clytemnestra's," Harry and Ron said at the same time through pure coincidence, and rushed out of the Great Hall, hoping nobody noticed. No such luck; Malfoy stopped them in the hall, Crabbe and Goyle at his sides. "Out of the way, Malfoy," snapped Ron. "Harry and I have a job to do."

"So do I," Malfoy sneered. "I'm making sure the both of you stay on school grounds unless you have a professor accompany you to wherever-you-were-going."

"But, Malfoy, this is important. We're being serious—"

"So am I," Malfoy said, laughing. "You know, I think Zabini got what was inevitably coming to him. He had some very bad blood in him. And Finnigan, oh, don't even get me started—"

"It's not wise to speak of the Dead in such a way," said Lethe, coming out of the Great Hall. "You'll bring bad luck upon yourself."

"Sorry, Professor," Malfoy said sweetly. "It just sort of slipped."

"As for your little question as to the whereabouts of Potter and Weasley unaccompanied, I'll let you know I was planning on chaperoning these two on our way to Hogsmeade. We have a missing student, Malfoy, and these two are going to help me catch up with Miss Cassandra Snape, hopefully before the girl ends up hurting herself or others."

"Oh, okay," Malfoy said, grinning at Lethe. "Have fun, Professor. May I come along too?"

"No," Lethe said icily, grabbing Harry and Ron each by a wrist and dragging them on with a rather firm grip. Once out of Malfoy's sight, Quirrell's voice came out of Lethe's mouth. "And I mean it; I'm accompanying you two out there. You're not going out there by yourselves at this hour."

"Why not?" Ron asked, glaring at Lethe, who shifted back into Quirrell as soon as his feet landed on the soil outside the castle.

"I know what's out there," Quirrell said coldly, "since it almost killed me two days ago. Neither one of you would stand a chance against it."

"Not like you care, Professor," Ron said. "You tried to kill Harry, so why save his skin now?"

"I switched sides, genius," Quirrell snapped. "Now, let's run for it before I get caught. I don't want to see anything bad happen to the Snape girl; five years ago, she was perhaps one of my friendliest students, and she's still the same child deep down…and I'll be damned if I let a dangerous man like Ahsimal get away with Slaying her!"

"You're not coming to help us," Harry theorized. "You're coming along to help Cassandra?"

"That's right," Quirrell said, still dragging Ron and Harry along. "Pick up the pace, you two, unless you WANT to see your little friend with a big wooden stick stuck in her chest cavity!" He then let go of the wrists, and rushed ahead at a speed Harry couldn't believe.

It was impossible to catch up with Quirrell, because he was running so quickly. '_This is a nightmare_,' Harry thought, gasping for air as he ran after his Alchemy teacher. "Ron, are you keeping up?"

"Yes," Ron said, panting. "Are we almost there?"

"I can see the cemetery!" Harry said, looking ahead. However, Quirrell was nowhere in sight; he'd run a bit too swiftly for Ron and Harry to keep track. "Ron, it's not that much further—" he stopped in mid-sentence; he had tripped on a rock, and—in turn—Ron tripped on _him_. Both of them tumbled clumsily down the hill, and rolled into the cemetery, knocking down Quirrell in the process. "Sorry, Professor," said Harry.

"Don't worry about me," Quirrell said, brushing himself off after he got back on his two feet. "I'm more concerned about Snape." With that, he was off again, running toward a glowing green light. "She's in that direction."

"Are you SURE that's what that light is?" Ron inquired. "That looks like the Dark Mark to me."

"It's the wrong shade of green…the Dark Mark is an emerald color…this is more of a cadaverous green, like worm-eaten flesh," Quirrell said. "Amateur Necromancers cast glows like that when they try to Resurrect the Dead. It means that they're doing it without knowing how to Filter who comes out."

"What are you saying exactly?" asked Ron.

Quirrell didn't answer; he just swiftly ran over to where the glow was coming from, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "YOU'RE NOT A PROFESSIONAL!" Harry and Ron rushed up as well, feeling that whatever-it-was down there, in case it wasn't Cassandra, would finish off Quirrell first, giving them time to escape if need be. "You're not doing your friend any justice by going through with this."

"How would you know?" Cassandra snarled, the green light glowing at a very dangerous-looking level…it wasn't the body of Blaise casting that light, but Cassandra's _eyes_. "I've been studying Necromancy for the past SIX YEARS, Quirrell! I THINK I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" Her face looked freakishly sunken, and she looked much older in that light…that light seemed to be controlling her.

"Your arrogant behavior isn't going to do Zabini any good," Sargon said exasperatedly, coming out of the shadows with Darius. "Put down your wand, and let the Dead stay Dead…that family was never meant to have a Resurrection take place. They're BAD blood."

"No," Cassandra said, raising her wand up high. "THIS IS MY FRIEND, AND I'M GOING TO BRING HIM BACK!" She pointed at Darius and said, "YOU WEREN'T GOING TO DO IT, SO YOU LEFT ME NO OTHER CHOICE, DARIUS!"

"I had GOOD reason, too," Darius spat. "Zabini's one of the ones who shouldn't be brought back, no matter _how_ nice he was." He tapped his foot impatiently. "You're beginning to make me mad, child…quit this foolishness right now."

"Blaise deserves to live!" Cassandra snarled back. "Go away!"

"You leave me no other choice," Sargon said coldly as he pulled out the crucifix. Cassandra didn't stare at it, like he expected, however. "Hold on…why aren't you—"

"I KNOW BETTER!" Cassandra snapped, and she twitched her wand furiously. "_Cadavera Rejuvenus!_" she shouted angrily. "_CADAVERA REJUVENUS!"_ Suddenly, the ground began to shake around Blaise, and large clumps of dirt flew up in the air, as well as a glowing green mist. Cassandra loomed over the body, as if she were protecting it. Quirrell, Darius, and Sargon looked horrified at what had just happened, while Ron and Harry weren't quite sure what was going on.

"Stop it while you still can!" Darius yowled. "You're doing something VERY dangerous—"

"It's too late for any interception," Quirrell said, looking about with a pale face, his left eye twitching. "Zabini's going to get a second chance."

Harry looked directly at Cassandra (although it was a bit hard to do so with all the flying soil and rocks, and since it was becoming a little dark outside) and noticed Blaise was moving.

"_CADAVERA REJUVENUS!_" Cassandra shouted, raising her wand above her head. A bright green spark issued out of her wand, and the color returned to Blaise's face…and the wounds healed.

"She's not doing bad at all," Quirrell whispered to Ron and Harry. "I don't see what everyone was so worried abou—_oh SHIT_!" He pointed to what was going on, but it was useless; Harry and Ron were already looking…a crack in the earth had appeared, and transparent monstrosities were seeping out, each one worse than the previous.

"Now look what you've done!" Darius shouted. "Cassandra, this was very irresponsible of you…you just unleashed the Unseelie Court into Hogsmeade. THEY WERE NEVER MEANT TO LEAVE SCOTLAND!"

"What are they?" Cassandra asked, suddenly sounding very passive, as if she were about to pass out.

"The Unseelie Court," Quirrell said nervously, "is a swarm of evil spirits and fairies that kidnap the living, and force their captives into doing their bidding for one night." He looked again at Cassandra and said, "They also sometimes come out for the night during an Unfiltered Resurrection, like the one you just did."

"Unfiltered?" Cassandra sounded confused. "Darius, you never told me I had to Filter a Resurrection for it to work."

"It can work Unfiltered too," Darius said, "but it is much more dangerous. Something horrible could have happened to your friend, but he came out alright."

"And nobody got hurt," Cassandra said drowsily. She started walking off, and Blaise followed.

"I think I know who the gorgonix is," he whispered to Cassandra. "I think it's Skylarke—"

"Impossible," Cassandra said flatly. "He—"

"I saw my killer," Blaise said anxiously, "and I think anyone would know the face of his own killer." He looked at Cassandra and laughed. "What happened to you? You look like you raised Hell out of the earth!"

"She pretty much did," Sargon said icily as he walked off with Darius. "We're leaving before the Unseelie Court decides to take a pair of vampires for their nightly fun."

"Good idea," Cassandra said. "I think it would be best if we headed off too." She began to walk off, and Blaise easily caught up with her.

Ron and Harry left as well, but then heard a very piercing scream. "THEY GOT ME!" they heard Quirrell shout angrily.

"Drat," Ron said, rolling his eyes as Quirrell passed by overhead, being dragged off by those wicked-looking fairies and monstrosities. "We can't go back to Hogwarts without him…unless we want to be doing chores for Filch for a whole month."

"I guess that means we've got to follow him, eh?" Harry said, sighing. "Let's go save him."

_**hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp**_

_Hello everyone! Happy Christmas!!! Here's another chapter in the continuing saga of the Nemesarists!!! There will be lots more action from here on out. And yes, Sirius is really back!!!_

_Take care everyone! I hope you all have a wonderful and prosperous holiday, and for those of you who believe, remember the reason for the season...it's Christ's birth that we celebrate!! Please remember to review! I enjoy reading what you think about the story, and I'm a bit disappointed at the lack of reviews! I know you guys are reading the story, so please, please...drop me a line or two and let me know if you liked it or not!!!_

_Professor Mortimer Skylarke_


	37. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six:

The Unseelie Court

It was still rather dark out there, but Harry and Ron just had to follow the slightly white luminescence of the band of wickedness. "This really isn't fair," Ron grumbled. "We're saving someone who was trying to kill you…that's just messed up."

Harry, however, was more than willing to get Quirrell out of this mess. After all, he'd probably been the one to get rid of Mortius. The fairies were leaving a trail behind, of will o' the wisp, so they weren't the most difficult thing to follow. "Cassandra, are you and Blaise coming?"

"Why not?" Cassandra said, still looking very fatigued. "I need a drink, though."

"Have you got a vial to drink from?" Blaise inquired. When Cassandra shook her head, he stretched out his arm and sighed. "Okay…just this once." Cassandra sunk her teeth into Blaise's arm and the energy almost instantaneously came back to her. "That didn't even hurt…in fact, it felt rather good."

"If you willingly give it, then it isn't going to feel bad," Cassandra said calmly. "Thanks, Blaise."

"That was…" Ron said, "…utterly disgusting."

"It's a part of unlife," Cassandra said flatly. "There's nothing _gross_ about it. I do it all the time."

"To who? Blaise and Rhianna?"

"You're making it sound like I'm doing something wrong," Cassandra said, blinking, "and no, this is the first time I bit either one of them. I usually just get blood from my uncle or one of his friends. Aurelius Fallowin's very good about donating."

"I can see that, actually," Ron said, "but don't expect me to give you any of my blood."

"I won't," Cassandra said nicely. "Thanks for not interrupting Blaise's Resurrection."

"If you'd done that, something a lot worse could have come from that crack in the earth," Blaise said. "I'm sure Darius told you about Atlantis already."

"Yes, he did," Harry said, still walking. He could see the swarm of beings rushing off. Knowing this was going to be a long night, he placed two orange Mood Drops in his mouth, preparing in advance; he gave Ron the same amount. "We're going to need it."

"Yeah," Ron said, looking up at the sky. "They're flying pretty fast…"

Both Harry and Ron ran as fast as their sixteen-year-old legs could take them, but the Unseelie Court was flying about as swiftly as Quirrell had been running only a few minutes earlier. It _was_ impossible to keep up with them. "How are we supposed to catch up with THAT?" Ron said, sighing sadly. "I think Quirrell's done for."

"Hold on…WHAT are you talking about?" Blaise asked. "That fellow died five years ago, Harry, when he tried to kill you…don't you remember? He was after the Philosopher's Stone, and—"

"You're _right_," Cassandra said, looking at Blaise with surprise. "What's going on? Quirrell's _supposed_ to be dead. So…how come he yelled at me, more alive than me, and told me I wasn't a professional?"

"Ask Ahsimal," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "It was _his_ idea to bring the bloke back to life, not mine."

"Alive or dead, nobody deserves to be dragged by that crowd," Blaise said. "I've got some Scottish relatives who survived encounters with the Seelie Court before—"

"Blaise, this isn't the Seelie Court," Harry said, "I believe this is the _Unseelie_ Court."

"That's a lot worse, mate," Ron said. "The Unseelie Court is as vile as the fairy world can get." He looked up. "Well…there goes Quirrell…no way we can catch up."

"I'm sure Hermione could have thought of something," said Cassandra. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Oh well…let's head back to Hogwarts—"

"That's it!" Harry said. "What was the spell Hermione used to stop the pixies four years ago?"

"Right!" Ron said, waving his wand at the bad fairies. "IMOBULUS!" Quirrell _and_ the entire Unseelie Court fell to the ground with a heavy thud. "Professor, are you okay over there?"

"I'm _fine_," Quirrell said in a rather annoyed voice. "Weasley, Potter…how could you leave me isolated, even for a second? Things like that target the unaccompanied."

"Well, we rescued you, so you don't have all that much room to gripe and complain with us," Ron said, folding his arms. Quirrell scowled at him and stomped toward the gates leading out of St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery. "That really wasn't all that hard."

"That doesn't mean the Unseelie Court's heading back to the Scotland forests, either," said Blaise. "They'll be bothering the people of Hogsmeade until daybreak."

"Those things can possess people, you know," Quirrell said, tapping his foot in exasperation. "How could you _leave _me? I was right there!"

"Get over it," the students said in unison.

"Maybe we should go back to the school after all," Blaise said. "Who's with me?"

"I'll go," said Cassandra, walking with her friend. "Harry, what about you and Ron?"

"Er…no," Ron said, "thanks. Harry and I will be looking around Hogsmeade for a bit before we head back. Honestly, Cassandra, it's a Saturday night and Hogsmeade is having its last days of the After Christmas Sales…if you expect me to get you a birthday present, I've got to go _now_."

"He's got a point, you know," Harry said, and walked off with Ron. "Nice save, mate."

"Not a problem, Harry," said Ron. "This shall be a pretty fun—"

"Excursion with your Alchemy teacher," Quirrell interrupted. "I've got to get my wife something for Valentine's Day, or she'll wring my neck."

"Does she get you stuff?" Ron asked

"What do you think?" Quirrell snapped, pulling a twig out of his messy hair. "She's done so every year. Now, it won't be so bad being _supervised_, will it?"

"Yes," Ron said, "it'll be awful." When he saw the glare he was given, he added, "Just a joke."

"Welcome to uptown Hogsmeade!" said the manager of a charmed flower store, a rather squat old lady with her hair in a beehive. "May I interest you in my Poetry Roses? They smell nice, and recite love poems when you rub the thorns. I sell a lot of these every Valentine's Day…and you know it'll be coming up soon!"

"They'll wilt by then," Quirrell said flatly.

"Not if you buy my freshness potion," said the lady. "Here's a free sample!"

"This lady's trying a bit too hard to impress him with her product," Harry whispered to Ron, who nodded. "If I were Quirrell, I'd get Stanzi something else…there's just something about Stanzi that says she's not a flower kind of person."

"No, thanks," Quirrell said, walking out of the store, to find the daffodils were cursing him out. Ron walked back in there, and Quirrell looked slightly amused. "You're not actually going to buy anything in there, are you?"

"Yes," Ron said. "I'm going to buy a set of flowers to go on Isis's grave. Harry, would you like to get some for Lupin?"

"He's not dead, Ron," Harry said, "and neither is Sirius."

"Sirius?" Quirrell sounded a bit skeptical.

"Yes, I'm serious about it," Harry said.

"No, you misunderstood me…which Sirius are you talking about? Sirius Black?"

"Er…yeah…he didn't kill my parents."

"Oh, I knew that!" Quirrell said, grinning. "It was Pettigrew; I thought it was Black until the Dark Lord told me differently. Rather sneaky, I thought, pinning everything on the best friend. Had that been true for me committing a crime, everyone would suspect Alex."

Ron came out of the store five minutes later with a set of black roses and irises. "She charmed these to never wilt…and watch this." He unwrapped the paper holding the stems together, and touched a black rose's thorn.

Suddenly, a voice came from the rose…it sounded like Phorcys Lancerie:

"_**Heard a carol, mournful, holy**_

_**Chanted loudly, chanted lowly**_

_**Till her blood was frozen slowly,**_

_**And her eyes were darkened wholly…"**_

"That's Tennyson," Quirrell said, looking at the roses with a bit of confusion. "Why are the roses reciting _that_ part of '**The Lady of Shalott**'?

"The flower lady in there called this a Mourning Bouquet—"

"I don't see what the time of day has to do with—" in mid-sentence, Quirrell cut himself off, realizing that Ron had said 'mourning', and not 'morning'. "Oh…sorry."

"I think that's nice of you to get those for Isis," Harry said. "I'm sure she'd thank you if she could."

"None of you should be forced to experience those tragedies up at Hogwarts," Quirrell said, a vacant expression on his face. "Death is perhaps the most gruesome thing to ever witness. It's not as bad when _you're_ the one who's actually dying, but seeing pain and fear like that on someone else, someone so innocent…that's truly horrible." He looked at the two Gryffindors and said, "I can feel sorry for Hermione Granger, seeing Blaise Zabini dying on the floor…and knowing there was no way she could stop the gorgonix. Actually, I can do more than pity…I can sympathize."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked. "Just because a vampire tried to bite you in Romania?"

"That was Ahsimal, by the way," Quirrell said, rolling his eyes, "and he _did_ get me this time. But, no…that's not what made me the nervous wreck I was."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Ron asked.

"It was terrifying, being his host, but again…no," Quirrell looked very hollow; as if there was nothing inside him at all. "What made me so panicky was the fact that I had to witness the murder of my own son." Harry had known about that, but had forgotten all about it until Quirrell had brought that topic up. "I got my Necromancer's License about a month later, but never could get a permit to enter St. Clytemnestra's, since the Von Dorians who lived in The Lair were constantly out of town." He looked at Ron and said, "So…you want to go _back_ to the cemetery to put those by Acheron's grave? I must commend you on your taste, Weasley; she was a sweet girl and had a rather nice smile."

"I know," Ron said, heading off in that direction.

"Harry, hello!" said a soothing female voice. Harry turned around to see Lydia…with Teiresias. "How's it going?"

Harry decided not to alarm Lydia, so he said, "Oh, everything's going well. Rather nicely, actually."

"I didn't know this was a Hogsmeade weekend," Lydia said. "If you see Cassandra, tell her to please visit us…we've missed her."

"It isn't a Hogsmeade weekend, Mrs. Von Dorian-Snape—"

"_Miss Von Dorian_," Lydia corrected Quirrell.

"You're divorced?" When Lydia nodded, Quirrell laughed. "Good for you."

"Are you heading to the cemetery, by any chance?" she asked, and then looked at Quirrell. "I don't think you're teaching up at Hogwarts anymore…in fact, I have you marked as _dead_ in my cemetery address book…you _and_ your family." Lydia raised a dark eyebrow and asked, "So…what are you doing with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter on a Saturday in Hogsmeade, Quirrell?"

"It's a long story," Quirrell said, "and it involves your daughter and the Unseelie Court—"

"Never mind," Lydia said, pursing her lips.

"Oh, come on, Mum!" Teiresias said, looking interested. "I just read some stories about the Unseelie Court…I want to hear this!" He looked up at Quirrell and said, "So…did she bring them to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes."

"Great!" Teiresias said, pulling out a camera. "Maybe I can keep a few little mementos before they leave!" He rushed off, holding the camera in one hand, and his wand in the other.

Lydia looked horrified as her son walked off into the darkness. "TEIRESIAS! WAIT UP!"

"What a nice lady," Ron said, watching Lydia run. "I hope she finds Teiresias still in one piece."

After stopping by the cemetery, and a few downtown stores; Harry, Ron, and Quirrell found themselves back in uptown Hogsmeade…at The Hog's Head. "Oh, _you're_ back," said the man behind the counter to Quirrell. He then added sarcastically, "Did you ever get that vampire to go away?" Quirrell stretched his neck in the right direction so the fellow could see the two tiny teeth holes where Darius had bitten him upon his Resurrection. "Guess not…well, then…will you be ordering an Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, as usual?"

"Yes," Quirrell said, scowling. "On the rocks."

"And two butterbeers, please," Ron added.

"I hope _you've_ got that money," Quirrell said, "because, Weasley, I am NOT buying you a drink."

Harry looked behind to see Aurelius was coming in, so he tapped Quirrell on the shoulder. "Just so you know, another professor's coming in."

"Damn," Quirrell said, rushing to the water closet as if he had a sudden urge to vomit. A few minutes later, he came out as Lethe. "Well," Lethe said, sitting down, "that's that." She grabbed the firewhiskey and began to slurp it down at a rather ambitious pace.

"Hold on, lady! That was Quirrell's drink, not yours—"

"Oh, shut up," Lethe said, pushing two Galleons across the counter. And, without any more urging, the man silenced himself. "Hi, Aurelius!" she said loudly.

Aurelius blushed a bit, but came up the front. "Hello, Juno," he replied, looking as if he hadn't wanted to be spotted. "What are you doing out here with Ron and Harry?"

"Haven't you heard?" Lethe asked. "Cassandra Snape ran out with Blaise Zabini's body to—"

"That bloody monster got _him_ too?"

"Yes, well—"

"Just how many died since I left yesterday?!"

"How should I know?" Lethe snarled back, slurping down the last of the Firewhiskey, as if it were nothing more dangerous than a cup of lukewarm tea. "I just know I followed Harry and Ron to track down Cassandra. She managed to Resurrect her friend without any problems, but she unleashed the Unseelie Court."

"That's why I'm out here," Aurelius said. "I got a letter from Cornelius Fudge just about an hour ago. Archimedes sent it to me—you know, Morty's owl—and you're not going to believe how much this guy is willing to pay me to subdue the Unseelie Court before the members cause serious damage!" He began to chuckle a bit, but the chuckle became a laugh, and the laugh soon became a guffaw, which echoed throughout the entire pub, since everyone else had gone deathly quiet. Aurelius cleared his throat, rolled back his shoulders, and then said calmly, "I'll make a small fortune after tonight…and that's not counting my big fat compensation check from the Ministry of Magic about my Azkaban grievances."

"Good for you," Lethe said dryly.

"That's really great," Harry added, glad Aurelius had found a great use for his Exorcism skills.

"Well," Aurelius said, tapping his new wand on his shoulder, "off I go, into the unlit night, to fight these little buggers—"

"They're not all little," Lethe interrupted.

"How would you know?"

"I was their captive an hour ago."

"How'd you get out of their grasp?" Lethe pointed to Harry and Ron. "Oh," Aurelius said, grinning, "I see. Great thinking, lads." With those words, he ran out of the pub, but came right back. "Right! I forgot…I wanted a little red wine before I left." He tossed a Galleon across the counter, and received a small glass in exchange. After practically inhaling the wine, Aurelius rushed out, and didn't come back…but slamming the door shut so hard that it fell off the hinges made his exit a very theatrical one.

"I hope Alchemy isn't too boring," Lethe said, turning to Ron.

"Oh, it's not," Ron said. "I like the fact I'm doing well in there. What do you think, Harry?" He turned, and then blanched. "Harry?"

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Lethe asked.

"Harry left, Professor!"

Indeed, Harry _had_ left the Hog's Head, and decided he'd follow Aurelius rather than Lethe/Quirrell. The prospect of learning how to deal with vanquishing evil spirits like the Unseelie Court seemed fascinating, so he wanted to find out how Aurelius did it. "What are you doing out here?" Aurelius asked, looking a bit unsure of Harry's accompaniment.

"Following you, Aurelius," Harry said, trying his best to look friendly and up to a little mischief. "I want to know how to vanquish evil spirits…"

"Heaven comes to he who waits," Aurelius replied, and pulled a smelly brown bag out of his blazer's left pocket, and then a lighter. He bent down, put the parcel on the ground, and torched it. "They'll come soon, attracted to the magical element of chaos. I also put a salmon in there, since beings like the Unseelie Court seem to also like fish for some reason."

"Was there anything else?" Harry asked, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve; Aurelius's exorcism smelled horrible, yet predictable; burnt fish.

"Nope," Aurelius said, "just a fish and fire. By the way, Harry, you might want to look up. They're coming toward the fire."

Harry did as directed, and noticed an entire swarm of ghastly beings reaching toward the fire, and running closer to it at a rate much faster than any human was capable of running.

"This is all going well, according to my plan," Aurelius whispered, as the Unseelie Court started to fight itself for the fire. Aurelius raised his wand, and forcefully said, "_ENTITUS EVICTUS!_" Hundreds upon hundreds of the horrible apparitions became a pure white vapor, and sunk beneath the earth…except for one. There was a woman with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and long stringy hair the color of pond algae; she wore a flowing black dress which had transparent, ragged ends, and she was barefoot. "Ah…so we meet again, Leanan-Sidhe," Aurelius said, sighing. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Fallowin?" said the woman-like entity. "It really has been a while; last time I saw you, you had just gotten out of school, and were still in college. I can see a few gray hairs now." She sneered then, and raised her head. "You can evict my Unseelie Court, yet can't evict me? How typical for Aurelius Fallowin." She grinned, to show off blood-red gums with rot-spots.

"Who is _she_?" Harry whispered to Aurelius.

"She's Leanan-Sidhe," Aurelius whispered back. "She's a banshee from the Isle of Man who decided to run the Unseelie Court. We've confronted each other several times before." He pointed his wand at Leanan-Sidhe and said, "I'm tired of having to deal with you…you're perhaps the hardest being to get rid of who I've run across."

"Meh," replied Leanan-Sidhe, tapping her bony feet. "You'll run off—as usual—when you hear me sing." She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth, obviously about to sing. "_Cur—"_

"_DISPERSIUM!"_ Aurelius shouted, turning Leanan-Sidhe into white mist, like the rest of the Unseelie Court; she then sunk under the ground. "That was _it? I just had to use the Dispersion Charm instead of the Eviction or Ejection Charm?! THAT would have gotten rid of her for the time being!_" Aurelius sighed in exasperation and said, "Well, Harry, maybe you and I should head back to Hogwarts."

"What for? Shouldn't we celebrate saving the people of Hogsmeade, and don't you have to report somewhere to receive your check?" Harry countered, not really wanting to go back to Hogwarts, where the gorgonix was probably still on a killing spree.

"Morty wants me to attend a Mass with him at the Cathedral he goes to," Aurelius responded, and started walking toward the school. "Besides, Fudge already said the check was in the mail."

Suddenly, Harry remembered…he had a letter he had to read; it had been in his pocket the whole time!

"_Dear Harry," _Harry began re-reading at the breakfast table on Sunday. _"I must say your skill at the Quidditch game surprised me. You've come quite a long way since the last time I saw you out there. I am sure you'll be glad to hear I'm coming back to Hogwarts to be a Wizard in Residence; it's like being a Guidance Councilor, or something of that sort. Although I will be dealing mostly with young witches and wizards who aren't quite sure what to be preparing themselves for, I'm sure you and I will be running across each other shortly. Tell Sirius (yes, I know he's there) I said hello, if you see him before I do…..with best regards…Remus J. Lupin."_

"That's wonderful," said Cassandra, looking just about as thrilled as Ron and Hermione. "I haven't seen Lupin face-to-face since I was a Third Year, and I'm relieved somebody repaired him."

"You're making him sound like a broken toy!" Hermione said, elbowing the raven-haired girl.

"It's true…you repair corpses," Cassandra said, and then said, "I'm not sure what was going through Darius's mind yesterday, bringing Sargon out to Blaise's Resurrection with a crucifix. The both of them should know by now that St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, or _any_ Von Dorian territory is marked as a non-crucifix zone."

"Oh well," Ron said. "Crosses don't kill."

"Speaking of crucifixes," Harry said, "I couldn't help but notice the sign Morty put up on the Turret Fifteen door—"

"Really?" Hermione sounded interested. "What did he write? '**Gone Cursing Innocent Bystanders**', or '**Be Back in Five Minutes; Must Kill Students**'?"

"Neither," Harry said defensively. "He wrote, '**In Case You Were Wondering, I'm Attending Mass; I'll Be Back Around Noon**', or something along those lines."

"He's Catholic?" Ron asked. "You don't see too many Catholic wizards in Britain at this day and age."

"Oddball, isn't he?" Hermione added. "Harry, you don't honestly believe he's attending church right now…do you?" Harry didn't respond, because the topic of conversation had to dramatically change instantaneously. "Hello, Serena."

"Hi," Serena said, sitting down with the group. "Did you finish your Furrier essay yet?"

"No," Harry and Ron answered.

"It's a work in progress," was Cassandra's input.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Great!" Serena chirped, and then pulled out a pencil. "Mind if I copy like a lazy old American?" The looks Hermione gave the girl obviously stated how appalled she was by this question and behavior. "I was kidding, okay? Mine's almost done."

"I think poor Hermione here was about to have a coronary when you said that," Cassandra said, a small smirk appearing on her face. "That was pretty funny."

"Have you got a favorite class here yet, Serena?" asked Ron.

"Um," Serena said, putting her index finger to her bottom lip, "Yeah, actually."

"Which one?" Ron inquired. "I'm for Alchemy."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry added.

"Necromancy," was Cassandra's input.

"Charms," said Hermione.

"I like Potions," Serena said, a smile on her slightly tan face. When she saw the expressions Hermione, Ron, and Harry were giving her, she looked very confused. "Something wrong?"

"The Potions Master's a slimy git," Ron stated.

"A…what?" Serena seemed confused. "What's a git?"

"Bastard," Hermione corrected. "Git's an insult."

"Oh, okay," Serena said, and then looked even more perplexed. "And you're saying that about Snape?"

"Yes," Ron said, totally ignoring the warning signs Hermione was giving him.

"Ron," Harry heard her whisper, "Cassandra's _right there_—"

"I'm used to hearing people say that," Cassandra said calmly. "Just like I'm used to hearing people call me a disgusting blood-drinker, and Hermione a mudblood."

"Hey, don't feel bad about that," Serena said toward Hermione, who was looking rather upset. "Most American witches and wizards are Muggle-born or mixed blood…I think maybe only one in a thousand is Pureblooded, excluding the Von Dorians, since there's at least one or two of them in every town, city, or hamlet…and that's _not_ just America; that's worldwide." She smiled again and said, "If it's any comfort, I'm a Mudblood too. So are Shaquan and Jezebel—actually, I think Jezebel's a Halfblood, but _anyway_—and I think the only Pureblood at our school _is_ Aarel."

"But _why_ do you like _Snape_?" Harry asked Serena. "Are you mental?"

"He's pretty nice," Serena said. "I got lost yesterday, and he pointed me in the right direction. He even went with me to make sure the gorgonix didn't get me. Sure, I know how to handle them—we covered those a while back in Black Magic Defense—that's what we Americans call Defense Against the Dark Arts—but after seeing what happened to Miss Von Dorian…I don't think I want to even _attempt_ to face that thing."

"That's common sense," Cassandra said. "I'm trying to find the thing, too. However, _some_ people think _I_ might be the creature." She glared over at the teachers' table at Ebonyste, who smiled and waved in a friendly manner.

"Oh, I completely FORGOT about Foreign Magic!" Serena said, laughing. "Mr. Ebonyste is cool."

"You _are_ mental," Ron said. "He's a pointy-eared git in a tie-dye shirt and love beads."

"I actually _LIKE_ Ebonyste, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "He's a friendly and funny fellow."

"You tell 'em, Hermione!" Serena chirped.

"I'm going elsewhere," Cassandra said in the middle of the squabble, and sat down with Blaise and Rhianna over at the Slytherin table.

Since Ron and Hermione were going to be trying to educate Serena about who was a good teacher, and who wasn't, Harry decided he'd sit with Neville, Ginny, and Luna. "Hello," he said, taking a seat. "Is there anything new going on?"

"Not really," Luna said, reading the Quibbler, "but according to the Quibbler, Professor Skylarke, our Curses & Rootwork teacher, might be the gorgonix."

"I believe it," Neville said. "Sure, he's nice, but he's a Slytherin Alumnus, and he majored in a Dark Art." He shivered and added, "I don't see how anyone can teach us how to Curse each other and smile at the same time. There's just something weird about him."

"I, for one, don't believe it's Skylarke," Ginny replied. "If you need homework help for his class, he's almost always up in his classroom, or at Mass on Sundays. He's not hard to find if you need him, and I think he doesn't have enough energy to be a gorgonix."

"I don't know what to believe in this," Luna said blankly. "My mind is null and void about gorgonixes."

"Dr. Hemlock said we Fifth Years should go ahead and learn how to defend ourselves from them, since there's one in the school…so she'll be teaching us about them this year instead of next year," Ginny said. "I swear…she's such a nice lady. A little rough, yes, but very considerate and thoughtful."

"But Skylarke's just weird," said Neville. "I think the only teacher who's weirder than him is Ebonyste."

"You're not going to believe what that kooky twit is up to," Harry said, and then looked at Luna. "Oh, I'm sure you'll believe it, Luna; this seems like a Quibbler story…it's true, though!"

"The Quibbler is the truth," said Luna, "but try me on this; I want to hear your story."

"He's spying on Cassandra Snape," Harry said, "because he thinks she's the gorgonix."

"Oh, I knew about that," Luna said. "My dad interviewed him for the Quibbler last week…that's practically _all_ he wanted to talk about."

"I don't think it's Cassandra," Neville said. "I recall Nezura telling us that people with gorgonixes have a white ring around their pupil, which is very obvious on somebody with dark eyes. Well, Cassandra has dark eyes, and there's no ring."

"Great observation," Ginny said. "I don't think Hermione would have thought to check, no matter how smart she is…Neville, that's a _great_ observation!"

Harry thought about the pictures Ebonyste had shown him of Cassandra, and then remembered something a little strange in them…in the pictures, Cassandra had light blue eyes. "Her eyes are dark green!" he suddenly announced. The shock of recognition caught him like a sudden sickness. "I've got to talk to Ebonyste…_now_!" He didn't care how rude it was to leave the table without so much as an "excuse me"; Ebonyste had falsified evidence! Ten seconds later, Harry was facing Ebonyste, peering from the other side of the teachers' table. "You're trying to frame her, aren't you?"

"Say what?" Ebonyste said, looking up from his copy of 'When Good Things Happen to Bad People (And How You Can Fix That Problem)' to see what had gotten Harry so mad. "What'd you say?"

"You're trying to frame Cassandra, aren't you?" Harry snarled, hoping that McGonagall, Dr. Hemlock, Snape, Snitchgrass, Lethe, Furrier, Stanzi, and Flitwick (who were all sitting relatively near Ebonyste) were listening in to what he had to say. He seriously wanted to embarrass Ebonyste in front of these teachers, especially Dr. Hemlock, and show them all what a liar and unreliable source Ebonyste truly was. "Admit it."

"No," Ebonyste said, folding his arms. His right ear began to twitch as he said, "I did no such thing."

"Let me see the photos again, then," Harry said. "I want to point something out." Ebonyste handed them over, and Harry began to point out errors immediately. "See? She's wearing a Gryffindor tie in that one, and she's got a bit of fat on her in these—she's practically fresh out of Azkaban, Professor; she's still skin-and-bones—AND the girl in the picture has light blue eyes. Cassandra's are dark green…and she's paler than this."

"Oooo!" Lethe said, pointing at Ebonyste. "You were trying to frame that poor girl after all! I almost believed you for a moment when you said Cassandra was the gorgonix!"

"I thought she was!" Ebonyste said. "I saw these actions firsthand…if that's not Cassandra Snape, then _who_ is it? Huh?"

"Trying to frame my niece, eh?" Snape said, getting up out of his seat. He hung over Ebonyste like a heavy drink from the day before and pulled out his wand. "You and I settle this outside, as we would have a decade ago."

"To the death?" Ebonyste asked, his ears suddenly drooping. "Look, Severus—"

"No, since this is on school grounds," Snape said, dragging Ebonyste, "but I'm going to teach you a lesson in making scapegoats out of my family members."

"Sometimes it's best to let people learn from their own experiences," Ebonyste countered, clearly not wanting to be isolated somewhere with Snape.

"Not this time," Snape said angrily, getting a very firm grip on Ebonyste's left ear. "Don, I can't let you go around harassing my niece and trying to frame her."

"I thought it was her!" Ebonyste yelped. "How was I supposed to know it wasn't her?" With that, he and Snape went outside the Great Hall. There were a few yowls of pain, and then both returned…Ebonyste with a bloody nose.

"Don, are you okay?" Nezura asked, just joining in at the table. "What's going on?"

"He was framing my niece," Snape said in a very unhappy, threatening voice. "And Potter, what are you still doing here?"

"I…er…"

"I thank you for bringing this conspiracy to my ears, but your presence is no longer required at this table," Snape said, glaring at Harry. "I suggest—"

"I suggest he stay here as long as he likes," Dr. Hemlock said, folding her arms. "Harry, that was a very good deed you did just there. Adonis here had almost convinced me that Cassandra was the gorgonix, but now I know better."

"I honestly thought it was her…" Ebonyste grumbled, his ears twitching furiously.

A while later, Morty returned to Hogwarts, looking very at ease…something Harry hadn't seen on the teacher in quite some time. "Hello," he said, seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk down the hall. "How was your morning?"

"Oh, the usual," Ron said, looking at the teacher in a slightly confused way. "How was yours?"

"Typical for a Sunday," Morty said, "yet this time, I really got involved with the service, instead of finding myself fall asleep due to lack of energy."

"Service?" Hermione asked, looking about as confused as Ron. "Where _were_ you?"

"I was attending Mass in Hogsmeade," Morty replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Is that why you're dressed up so nicely?" Ron asked. "I mean…why do you go?"

"Because I'm Catholic," Morty replied. "I never miss a Mass service if I can help it."

"Are you sure you weren't here?" Hermione asked.

"I'm pretty sure," Morty said, "unless I have an evil twin I've never met or something like that." Now he looked a little curious. "What are you suggesting?"

"I saw Blaise's killer," Hermione said icily.

"You did?" Morty asked, still looking curious. "Who was it?"

"You," Hermione answered. "It was _you_."

"That's impossible," Morty said. "How could it be me?"

"Don't play tricks with me, Professor Skylarke!" Hermione snarled, looking rather intimidating for once as she pulled out her wand. "I _know_ it was you…I saw you do it!"

"How could you have seen me kill Blaise if I was in Turret Four, trying to talk to a dead friend?" Morty responded. "I mean, Aurelius was up there with me, and so was Darius. If you need them to back up my story, I'm sure they'll be more than glad to do so. What makes you so sure this wasn't the gorgonix?"

"It _was_ the gorgonix!" Hermione snapped. "The white ring around the pupil was there, and the noises coming out of it weren't anything a human could make."

"What was it doing to Blaise?" asked Morty.

"When I saw it, it was choking Blaise with his bare hands," Hermione said. "You should know; it _was_ you!"

"Gorgonixes can shape-shift," Morty said calmly, and pulled off his gloves. "Take a look at my hands, Hermione, and look into my eyes…and you tell me if I'm Blaise's murderer or not."

Hermione glanced down at Morty's hands (or what was left of them) and looked like she was going to be sick. She then looked at Morty's eyes, and noticed, "T-there's no r-rim…it w-wasn't you after all?"

"No," Morty said, his face turning a bit pink from embarrassment about exposing his worm-eaten hands. "I was trying to tell you," he said as he put his gloves back on his hands, "but you didn't believe me."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were…er…you had…"

"I was tortured to death by Death Eaters, and then—years later—I was subjected to a botched Resurrection," Morty said. "I've learned to cope with it, but I must say my self-esteem is now at an all-time low when it comes to my physical form. Mentally, I don't think I could get much better, and I'm okay with myself spiritually, but my body…well, you saw my hands; that should give you an idea of how I look from the neck down."

"I think you have a reason to be dreary after all!" Ron said, shocked. "I just thought you were suicidal."

"Me? Suicidal?" Morty asked. "No…not me."

"Professor, I'm really, _really_ sorry about that…" Hermione kept saying, over and over. "So sorry…"

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_Hello everyone! Yes, I've finally updated the story!! I really do appreciate everyone who has taken the time to review and I also want to tell you all, Thank You!!!! _

_My contact info is a bit up in the air at the moment, so, if you have any questions, comments, or need to contact me, please email my beta and good friend, Nita. Her pen name is NitaPotter, and her email is always, please review for me, and let me know how you like the story thus far! This is chapter 36 out of 50, plus an epilogue. It won't be too much longer now!! Ciao!!!_

_Professor M. Skylarke_


	38. Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

The Horrible Restaurant in Hogsmeade

The rest of January passed by too quickly. Classes had been at an all-time easy level (except for Potions and Necromancy), and the beginning of February had been no different. It was now Valentine's Day, and it was a bit disturbing for some of the students; the last time there had been a celebration on this day was four years ago, under Lockhart's persuasion. However, this time, it had been the idea of the American students and Professor Ebonyste. There had been no gorgonix attacks for about a month, and everyone had been relieved, yet expecting it at every corner.

"So, we're passing out love poems today?" Dr. Hemlock asked, writing something down on a red piece of paper. "What for? Valentine's Day hasn't been celebrated at Hogwarts before."

"It used to be when Glaucus Goldman taught here years ago, and we celebrated it once when Gilderoy Lockhart was doing Defense Against the Dark Arts," was Snape's answer. "So, Doctor, this wasn't in the typical schedule."

"Oh, look!" Dr. Hemlock said, looking a bit surprised. "Somebody sent me a valentine." She opened it up, and it was a singing card, which sang a rather sweet song. "Aw…and this was from one of the students. I think I'll go and thank Fallowin for giving me this."

"What for?" Aurelius asked. "I didn't give you anything."

"I didn't mean _you_," Dr. Hemlock said. "I meant your nephew, Richard." She walked over to the Slytherin table and smiled. "Thanks for the card, honey-lamb." Rick looked thoroughly embarrassed, but the blushing stopped when Dr. Hemlock gave him, in return, a homework pass.

"Well," said Hermione, sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Serena. "I got something from Viktor. Oh, now admit it; roses and chocolate was a sweet gesture."

"Yeah, it is," Serena said. "I, on the other hand, have something else in mind." She passed valentines out to the entire group…as well as a tiny little present in each.

Ron opened his first, and blinked; it looked like a Rubik's cube at first, but there were little circular buttons on each of the six sides. Harry, Hermione, and everyone else got the same thing. "What is it?"

"Poke a button," Serena suggested.

Harry did so, and the little cube said, "I love you!" He pressed another button, and it said, "You know, I'd have no problem sneaking you in." There were four other sweet phrases in there, but he was confused as to what it was meant for.

"Oh, nothing really," said Serena. "But if you ever think of somebody clearly, it takes on the sound of that person's voice…and you can reprogram it to say anything you like. All you need to do is press the white and black buttons at the same time and think about what they should say."

Ron decided to give it a try, and got the cube to say, "Oh, I'm such a scaredy cat! Look at me run away from dust bunnies…because I'm scared!" in Lethe's voice. "This is brilliant!" Ron said happily. "Great present, Serena!"

"I like to be thoughtful," Serena said. "Now, to give my stink bombs to Aarel…" With that, she walked off toward the Slytherin table.

Harry got a couple more valentines, and noticed how many Seamus (long since Resurrected by Darius Ahsimal) was getting. Suddenly, a First Year Hufflepuff girl went up to Harry, and shyly passed him a note. "Thank you," Harry said, gently taking the note from the timid girl. "Is this from you?" When the girl nodded, and blushed, Harry said, "Well, you're gutsier than I am; I couldn't bring up the courage to send a note to the girl I used to like." He glanced at the Ravenclaw table, and saw Cho…and rolled his eyes. "So, what's your name?"

"Lavinia," said the girl.

Harry opened up the little envelope, to find a card with a small poem in it…as well as a heartfelt confession from Lavinia, who was practically jitters by this point. "This is very good," he said nicely.

"LOOK!" Malfoy jeered from the Slytherin table. "Potter's got a fan-girl!" Several Slytherins howled with laughter (except Rhianna, who rolled her eyes; Blaise, who buried his face in his hands; and Cassandra, who was casting Malfoy a scowl so powerful, it could have been assumed she wanted to achieve his demise) and continued to guffaw, even when bewildered Lavinia ran off in tears. Harry angrily stomped over there, and Malfoy just seemed to take the opportunity for more merciless teasing. "What's the matter? Are you mad at me for scaring away someone who probably stalks you?"

"She's just a First Year, Malfoy," Harry said, "and I think she's got more guts than you do."

"That little chicken?" Malfoy sneered. "Oh, I doubt that—"

"I can't believe you'd stoop so low as to poke fun at an underclassman who didn't do anything to provoke you," Harry snapped. "That's as low as it gets."

Hermione and Ron rushed up there as well, while Ginny was trying to track down Lavinia, so she could attempt to calm the poor kid down. "That's disgusting, Malfoy; that little girl didn't do anything to deserve your teasing!" Hermione said angrily.

"Oh? And what are you going to do about it, Mudblood?" Malfoy said menacingly. "It was just a bit of fun."

"Just you wait," Ron said, dropping some blue Mood Drops into Malfoy's drink (while Malfoy was looking the other way, of course). "We'll get you."

Harry went back to his table, to find Ginny was trying to console Lavinia, who was in tears. "Er…Lavinia?" Harry said, getting the girl to look up. "I liked your note. That was very sweet of you." Lavinia gave him one of the prettiest smiles Harry had ever seen, and then walked off, apparently feeling much better. "She seems like a nice girl," he said.

"She is," Winnefred said, popping up out of nowhere with a couple of her First Year buddies. "But that makes her an easy target for practical jokes." When she saw the unhappy glares she was getting from the upperclassmen, she said hurriedly, "By the Slytherins; not Steve and me!" and ran off.

"Speaking of practical jokes," Ron said. "Harry, I took care of Malfoy."

"How?" Harry asked. "What'd you do?"

"I put blue Mood Drops in his drink," Ron said.

"What do those do, again?" Hermione asked.

"Depression," said Harry. "Ron's made Malfoy depressed." Suddenly, it registered with him what that meant. "You're going to make him apologize to Lavinia! Ron, that's great."

"I can be a genius too, sometimes," Ron said, beaming. "Admit it; that was ingenious."

"It was," said Harry. "Good work."

"Thanks for the flowers, Harry," said Ginny, grinning.

"It's not a problem," replied Harry.

"How come you didn't get _me_ flowers?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable with Hermione's nosiness.

"Look at Snape!" Ron suddenly said, pointing at the Potions Master. "I think somebody sent him a letter!"

Harry and Hermione eased closer by to see if what Ron had to say was true…and it was; Snape had a look of utter disgust on his face as he looked over the piece of paper. "Who's the prankster?" Snape shouted. "I know I'll find you eventually!"

"Give it a rest, Severus," said Lupin, who had become a part of the faculty once more in the mid of January. "Perhaps you have a secret admirer."

"I doubt that," Snape said. "Just look at me." Lupin said nothing in response, but focused his attention more-so on the book he was reading. "Which one of you wrote this? I demand to know."

"It's called a 'Secret' admirer for a reason," Darius said, giving Snape a dirty look. When the foul glare was reciprocated, Darius got a little defensive. "Oh, surely you don't think _I_ wrote it!"

"I'm not sure," Snape said, giving Darius the evil eye. "It could have been you."

"It could've been Sargon," Darius said, pointing at his aide, who also denied writing it. "Okay; it _wasn't_ Sargon…and it wasn't me…maybe a girl wrote it!"

"I'm warning you!" Snape shouted at the students. "As soon as I find out who wrote this—"

"What makes you so sure one of _us_ wrote it?" Harry asked. "It could've been a professor, you know."

Snape scowled even more, and stomped out of the Great Hall, holding the note with two fingers, as if it were something as revolting as a dead baby pig. He slammed the door behind him, and the celebration continued. Suddenly, Cassandra sat down next to Harry. "I can't believe they're celebrating this," she said exasperatedly. "I mean, it's my birthday, and I'm pretty sure that Mum's going to be so caught up with Valentine's Day to remember to send me something—"

"Happy Birthday," Ron said, handing Cassandra a little present. "I didn't forget."

"I never told you my birthday until a few seconds ago, Ron," Cassandra said suspiciously. "How did you know?"

"It was on Flitwick's birthday calendar," was Ron's answer. "I actually look up there sometimes."

"Well, thank you very much," Cassandra said, opening the little box to find, "another book?"

"I never saw you reading that one," Ron said, "and looking at the title and author, I would assume you'd like it."

"'Perpetual Book of Continuous Curses', eh?" Cassandra said, "by Elhazred?" When Ron nodded, she smiled warmly and said, "Thank you. I never could find this one. Where'd you find it?"

"Secondhand bookstore in Hogsmeade," Ron answered. "Professor Lethe took me there after we rescued her from the Unseelie Court—"

"That wasn't Lethe," Cassandra said, looking very confused. "That was—"

"Lethe," Harry cut her short. "Same person."

"Are you trying to tell me that Quirrell is a Nymphomagus?" Cassandra still looked confused. "No…he's not that powerful. In fact, I recall him being a cowardly heap of human matter with no real use. Intelligent, perhaps, but worthless."

"What's a Nymphomagus?" asked Ron.

"Someone who can alternate sexes at random, and primarily can lead two separate lives; one for each gender," said Hermione. "They're not like a Metamorphmagus, who can shift into practically any person, or an Animagus, who can shift into a specific animal. Nymphomagi can only shift into one other form, which is of the opposite sex." She looked at Lethe (who was eating some chocolates Stanzi had given her), and sighed. "I always find it hard to accept the fact that our Alchemy teacher is that stuttering coward from six years ago…they look _nothing_ alike."

"But _is_ he one?" Cassandra asked. "I'd like to know if that fragile woman is the same as that vampire-fearing fellow that—"

"He's not scared of vampires as much anymore," Harry said, "not since Darius bit him."

Cassandra scowled and said, "So Lethe and Quirrell are one in the same?"

"Yes, but keep it down," Ron said. "I'm not sure what'll happen to my Alchemy grade if Lethe gets fired…I'd never been good in there until she taught it."

"I just thought Lethe and Talus were lesbians or something," Cassandra said. "But Quirrell being a Nymphomagus explains a _lot_." Suddenly, she jumped and made a yowl of surprised discomfort. "YOW!" she shouted, and looked to see a First Year Slytherin had tried to jam a wooden stake in the mid of her back. Angry about it, she turned around and bared her fangs at the kid. "Go away, pipsqueak. I can deal with you anytime I like." The boy walked off after that. "_Anyway_…where were we?"

"LAVINIA!" Malfoy shouted tearily, getting on his knees and walking like that toward the little girl, tears rolling down his eyes. "PLEASE, I BEG YOU!" He bowed before Lavinia, who looked horrified. "FORGIVE ME!" Instead of making the girl smile over Malfoy's Mood Drop-induced apology, it made her turn heels and run. "WAIT!" Malfoy cried, waving his arms in confusion. "WHAT DID I DO WRONG!?" And for weeks to come, the First Years all made sure to walk on the opposite side of the hall to avoid _any_ confrontation with Malfoy.

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The rest of the ceremony for Valentine's Day in the Great Hall was like that, and a few of the teachers decided to teach love-related lessons. McGonagall showed the class how to change certain herbs to cinnamon, and liver to candy; Morty taught a lesson on Heart-Snatching Curses and how to make people fall in lust; Darius showed the class how to send love letters to Dead people and—more importantly—how to get them to respond; and since Snape refused to do it, Lethe showed everybody how to make a Love Potion.

"I'm sick of this," Cassandra said, "and I'm ready for it all to be over."

"You're just unhappy because you didn't get a single valentine," Ron said. "Don't worry; the only one I got was from Serena Voltaire…and that's all Harry got, if you don't count that timid little First Year." Cassandra scowled at him. "Come on, Cassandra! Quit being such a sourpuss."

"This happens every time," Cassandra said. "I thank you for my birthday present, Ron—I really do—but it seems that the majority of people lack the—"

"Hey, Cassandra!" Aarel shouted in the hall. "Look at this!" Cassandra, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all turned around to see what the Slytherin resident was going to do…and with that, Aarel pulled out his wand and began to write flaming letters. "It's a poem I wrote:

**_Her quill drops,_**

_**much like her mood.**_

_**Of her life,**_

_**no one understood.**_

_**Her black hair,**_

_**such a greasy mess.**_

_**But would he know,**_

_**would she confess.**_

_**Her pale skin,**_

_**and dirty looks.**_

_**While she reads,**_

_**through her books.**_

_**Coveted shadows,**_

_**in which she sleeps.**_

_**Much like the company,**_

_**that she keeps.**_

_**And ivory needles,**_

_**once did win.**_

_**A kiss that many,**_

_**called a sin.**_

_**And crimson were her lips that night,**_

_**and for this thirst she would weep.**_

_**But oh was it a sight,**_

_**when his eyes she would meet.**_

_**As he beckoned,**_

_**she rose from her seat.**_

_**And there in stone,**_

_**they together slept.**_

_**Until the end,**_

_**when death was dealt.**_

_**Her voice he praised,**_

_**for all his days.**_

_**And many would never understand.**_

_**For he loved her more,**_

**_than he could any man."_**

"So…that's about Cassandra?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Aarel replied curtly, and turned to Cassandra, "Happy Valentine's Day—and a very Happy Seventeenth Birthday—to you."

Harry turned to see what Cassandra was doing, and was surprised to see she practically had nothing to say; her mouth hung slightly open, and her eyes were quite open; it was as if she were too stunned to say anything.

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Th-thank you…" Cassandra said to Aarel, her face turning a bit pink from embarrassment.

As Aarel walked off, everybody could hear Rick and Marcus talking to him. "You know, guys, I cant get her out of my head."

Marcus blinked, apparently not believing his ears. "You're really head over heels, eh?"

"Yeah," said Aarel. "I know, my heart is going to be the death of me."

Rick looked just about as surprised as Marcus "You would die over a girl? Moreover Cassandra Snape?"

Aarel shrugged his shoulders and responded with a smooth, "Yeah, well... dying with her wouldn't be all that bad."

"I think somebody's interested in you after all," Hermione whispered to Cassandra. "Just look at you! You're all smiles."

"Yeah," said Cassandra, "and my face looks like a beet."

"Hey," Ron said, pointing. "It really does!" Cassandra scowled at him and cuffed his shoulder. "Aw…come on! I was only kidding with you! Can't you take a joke?"

"We really need to do something for Cassandra's birthday," Harry said to Hermione and Ron once they were back in the Common Room.

"I think that might be a bad idea," Hermione said. "What if she doesn't like our idea?"

"How could she not like my idea?" Ron asked. "I say let's get a group of people she at least halfway gets along with, get a professor to supervise, and we all eat out at a restaurant in Hogsmeade."

"Wow," Hermione replied. "I think she'd actually like that."

"Let's do it, then," Harry said. "And I think I know a teacher who wouldn't mind chaperoning—"

"You're not thinking about _Snape_, are you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No," Harry said. "I never want to ask him for _anything_. I was thinking about Mitzi Nezura."

"Oh, you KNOW she'd do it!" said Hermione, happily. "Besides, we haven't seen much of her since she became the Hogwarts Private Investigator—"

"Dumbledore actually _made_ her that?" Ron asked. "She was doing a pretty crappy job on tracking the gorgonix down while she was the _Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher_!"

"Well, now she can't be sidetracked," Harry said, "and I'd be glad to let her chaperone—"

"That's _Cassandra's_ call," Hermione argued, "not yours. I quite specifically remember how well those two got along, and it wasn't very well!"

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The plan was set into motion that weekend, as a belated birthday present to Cassandra. Nezura decided to treat Ron, Harry, Cassandra, and Hermione to an evening dinner in Hogsmeade, but she'd also brought Malfoy along. "I know this place like the back of my hand," she explained, "since I used to own another curiosity shop right over there." She pointed to a little condemned building. "Now, I don't have much cash with me, so I know exactly where we can go to eat!"

"I hope you're not considering the place I THINK you're talking about," Cassandra said, looking rather disgusted. The group continued to walk nonetheless. "Please…no."

"Look, I don't like that place, either," Malfoy said to Cassandra, "but I thought vampires had no problem with filth—"

"Can it, Malfoy," Cassandra said flatly. "We're as sophisticated as we choose to be."

"Cut the vampire talk," Nezura snapped. "I loathe vampires." She led the group to a very filthy-looking building with a painted sign out by the front. "Ah, yes…here we are!"

"NO!" Malfoy and Cassandra shouted. "NOT THE GREASY SPOON!"

"The Greasy Spoon!" Nezura said happily. "I have fond memories of when this place opened! Adonis took me on dates here quite often when we were dating."

"You actually dated Ebonyste?" Harry asked, and when Nezura nodded, he gagged.

"Well, let's enter, shall we?" Nezura said cheerily, opening one of the door solid oak doors.

The restaurant was crowded. The students and their very tired little chaperone walked in, as if a group of six would have hardly any problem squeezing through. "Is this the right place?" asked Hermione.

"Yes!" Nezura said, much to the displeasure of Cassandra and Malfoy. She was wearing a pinstripe suit with a pair of rather large sunglasses, which made her look as if she were here on very strict business.

"Thank you for taking all of us out to eat today," said Ron, who clearly didn't have a problem with The Greasy Spoon. "It was really nice of you."

"Oh, don't mention it!" said Nezura. On the little Auror's neck was a red mark, a hickey; no doubt. Perhaps it would have been clever to wear a turtleneck like Cassandra, but Nezura really didn't seem to care about it.

"What's on your neck?" asked Harry, pointing at the red mark. He was really curious as to what had happened to Nezura.

"It's nothing," Nezura said hurriedly, and then she gave a rather teasing look to Harry and the four other students. "It's nothing but a love bite!"

Everyone thought about this and tried to guess who had been kissing Nezura. The thought of a "love bite" on the neck brought a lot of inquiries up. "Is your boyfriend a vampire, by any chance?" asked Hermione.

"Nope!" piped an extremely happy Nezura. She was pretty quiet about this entire issue. "I don't like vampires." She glared at Cassandra for a moment, and then grinned at the entire crowd and said, "You know that!"

However, Harry noticed Cassandra make an agonized look and a gag noise after hearing Nezura's gleeful, but curt, answer. "Oh, this is gross..." she groaned.

Ron seemed irritated. "The hickey is real enough, so someone had to give it to you! It couldn't have come just out of mid-air!"

Nezura giggled. "Yeah..." She was on Cloud Nine.

"Well, it _is_ a _man_ you're kissing, right?" asked Hermione.

"Sure is!" Nezura squealed. "You'd never know he was such a _romantic_ until you get to really know him, let me tell you!" She danced around in a little circle, and bumped into a waiting chair accidentally, almost losing her balance. "Whoops!"

Harry and Malfoy heard Cassandra groan, "Let me tell you...this is _disgusting_!"

"_A Professor_, perhaps?" asked Malloy.

"Oh, he's a professor..." said Nezura, trailing off, fluttering her eyes girlishly.

"_Skylarke_?" asked Ron.

Asking Nezura if her boyfriend was Professor Skylarke might not have been a good idea; they were almost complete opposites and had _nothing_ in common.

"No, it's not Skylarke..." Nezura replied sweetly. She had her dainty little hands on her blushing face. "But he's so sweet once you get past his bad boy attitude!"

Suddenly, a creepy guy dressed like a waiter with a manager tag on his shirt approached the students and the petite teacher. He was about fifty years old with really smelly breath…and a horrendously bad comb-over…and had a lazy eye. "Hey, what do you want?" he mumbled as he proceeded to chew on the disgusting tobacco which was staining and seeping through whatever teeth he had left.

"Who picked this crappy restaurant, anyway?" snapped Malfoy.

"This so happens to be my favorite place to eat!" retorted Nezura. "For Cassandra's birthday, I've got to chaperone you guys for a dinner. So, therefore, I can choose wherever I like, so live with it, Draco!" Nezura then giggled and kissed a photograph she was holding protectively in her hands. She acting rather goofy, like a lovesick schoolgirl.

Cassandra groaned at how unimpressed she was with the reptilian manager. "This is really going to suck."

"What's wrong?" Ron asked. "Aren't you having fun?"

"No," Cassandra said, giving the waiter a very suspicious look. "I'm not."

"Have you got a table for six?" Nezura asked the manager. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked really cheery about something.

"No; the restaurant's so packed that we figured it'd be okay to let the kids sit on the floor." The manager grinned, revealing his nasty yellow teeth. "You won't even notice our roaches! Don't bug them, and they won't bug you...no pun intended."

Nezura looked disgusted, but determined to eat here, since it was her choice, and she was too proud to back down from her own decisions. "Well, could I get seats for the students anyway? There are only five of them, so a table for six would suffice just fine," she chirped. Cassandra gagged again as the teacher gave a sugary sweet smile. "Are you related to Argus Filch, our school janitor, by any chance, sir? You sure do look a lot like him!"

The nasty man spat at the ground, spilling more tobacco. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, lady..."

"Ewww..." Hermione squeaked as she jumped to dodge the spit that had fallen at her feet. Nezura and the students were escorted to a table with five mismatched chairs (as promised) and a rather unpleasant looking filthy floor. "Hold on, sir!" she shouted. "We've only got _five_ chairs! There's six of us!"

"One of you's got to make due with the floor," said the manager as he walked off.

"Okay," said Nezura. "Let's take a vote to see who gets the floor."

"Malfoy," said Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"Potter," said Malfoy.

"YOU," Cassandra said angrily at Nezura.

"Sorry, Draco, but it seems like you're getting the floor!" Nezura said sweetly as Malfoy grudgingly sat down on the floor, which was covered in food, mold, and who-knew-what else.

It took about five minutes to get a waitress over to the customers. She looked normal enough, but then squawked, "HEY!!" in a very loud voice, which turned a few heads.

Nezura looked up. "Oh, hello there." She was completely turned on by the picture and was paying attention to nothing else.

"Can I interest you in a delicious hamburger?" the perky waitress asked Harry.

"No, I would prefer some chicken wings," he said, after seeing some poor, disgusted witch with the dreaded, nasty-looking burger.

"Cheeseburger it is!" she scribbled the order for the "food" on her notepad. The waitress turned to Nezura. "How about our kid's menu? Kids under twelve eat free!"

"Uh-hm," Nezura said, hypnotized by the picture.

"I'd like a glass of water," snapped Cassandra. "Even _this_ shithole would have trouble screwing that up," she muttered. Harry could tell she was trying to get Nezura to take them elsewhere for dinner, or ditch Malfoy, but it just wasn't working.

Nezura sighed. "Just a spinach salad and earl grey tea, thank you."

The waitress crowed, "What mature taste, young lady!" She turned to Harry and Cassandra and said, "Your daughter acts so grown up!!"

Malfoy elbowed Harry teasingly. "Yeah, pops! You're sixteen and Nezura's…how old? In her forties?"

"I'm thirty-five, thank you very much!" Nezura hissed at Malfoy.

Cassandra made a rude gesture at the waitress and scowled. She _obviously_ was not having a good time…and the waitress was just making things worse. Harry couldn't help but laugh looking at her...she reminded him of Professor Snape when she got piqued like that. Same foul expression, same bad temper. After everyone ordered, and ate, Malfoy began to feel sick. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Weak stomach?" asked Ron, who ate his burger in bliss.

"No," Malfoy answered. "I'm just accustomed to eating _food_."

"Ditto," muttered a very miserable Cassandra. "Something's _swimming_ in my water!" She showed her glass to everyone at the table. There were tiny green worms swimming around in the angry Sixth Year's murky glass of water. "LOOK AT THIS!"

"Oh!" squeaked Nezura. "And I get to eat free! Fancy that!" She was obviously _still _on Cloud Nine. Malfoy jumped up and knocked Hermione out of her chair. It hit Harry (probably not by accident) and he ran to the bathroom. No sooner than he entered, he ran out of the building. Then he threw up. It was absolutely disgusting, and chunks flew everywhere.

Hermione rushed outside as well to see if Malfoy was okay. Cassandra dropped a cheese stick when she noticed it was green. "Harry," said Ron. "Are you going to eat your fries any time soon?"

"Er...no."

"Good!" he reached and pulled out a fry. "You just have to pick out the good ones!"

Malfoy returned, and his face was about as green as Cassandra's cheese stick. Cassandra cringed. "How bad was the restroom?" she asked curiously.

"Awful!" Malfoy whimpered, "It was so horrible…there isn't even a word for it!"

Cassandra gagged, faced the restaurant, and then noticed the sanitation rating was a 'P.' She went in to protest. "Do you know that you got a _P _from the sanitation department?!"

"Yup!" said the annoying, perky waitress. "What's closer to an 'O' than I ever imagined. At least it's not a 'T' or something."

"Mark my words," snapped Cassandra. "You will be permanently closed this time next year if I have anything to do with it, and I am NOT leaving you a tip!"

"And I am _not_ giving you a free birthday dessert, missy!" said the manager.

"I give up!" growled Cassandra, looking more irritable and annoyed than ever. "Malfoy, I'll see you and the others when you're through eating in there. I'll be spending my birthday money in one of the nearby herb and mineral shops."

"Just where do you think you're going?!" Nezura hissed. "Sit down!"

"No," Cassandra said. "You're not a professor anymore, so I don't have to obey you."

"Yes you do!" Nezura snarled. "SIT BACK DOWN!" Several people were looking at the uproar, turning heads in confusion and curiosity. Cassandra, however, did sit back down to stop Nezura's raging mouth. Malfoy stopped making gag sounds and went table to table, trying to save the other customers. He came just in time, but not for himself a second time. He ate a piece of brown lettuce which refused to settle. Harry watched in amusement as his nemesis suffered the same awful fate he had just witnessed minutes earlier.

"I wouldn't eat that if I were you, Malfoy."

"Wh-" Malfoy started to ask why, but rushed to the bathroom in basically the same manner he had earlier...running and bumping into things frantically. When Hermione asked about the bathroom, Malfoy told her, "Dreadful...there wasn't even a urinal."

"Well, let's look around this part of Hogsmeade, shall we?" asked Nezura.

Harry would never let Malfoy live this one down. He laughed and teased, "You went into the _girl's_ bathroom!"

Nezura sighed. "Cassandra, why are you getting up?"

"I'm going to complain about the sanitation rating again," said Cassandra.

"I thought I told you to SIT DOWN!" Nezura hissed.

"I want to let the staff know they'll be having a lawsuit soon," Cassandra said, getting up. She left to flag down the manager and berate him for the water and the cheese stick.

"Honestly, she has no respect for me!" Nezura wailed.

Malfoy whispered to Harry, "I can tell you why, if you want to hear me."

"I don't," Harry replied. "I'm sure that's Nezura's business alone."

Nezura pulled out the mysterious picture again and kissed it. "Who is he?" Hermione asked.

"None of your business, Granger!" Nezura snapped, clutching the photo closely.

"Sheesh!" said Harry. "You'd think she was dating the world's toughest and most attractive Auror the way she's letting on! A knight in shining armor?"

Malfoy howled with laughter. "Oh, I think you're way off!"

"So, you know who he is?" Hermione asked, "Is that true, Malfoy?"

"No," Malfoy laughed. "I'd tell you if I knew, but you'd probably be too grossed out."

Harry asked, "Was that why Cassandra kept gagging in agony?"

"You bet your Galleons that's why she was looking like she'd swallowed a splipberry-gone-bad all day!" Malfoy crowed with laughter. "Maybe she should tell you once she--"

"You're still here?" asked Cassandra, coming back with a full refund.

"Yeah," said Ron in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. He tried to snatch the picture from Nezura. The poor teacher failed miserably in keeping it. Ron started to giggle as he held it far above the Auror's head. Nezura was infuriated.

"Give it back!" Nezura squeaked. Ron unfolded the picture, looked at it, and dropped it.

"Ewww!" he yelled, unable to forget the horror. "Oh, the agony! Ack!"

"I am going to KILL you, Ronald Weasley, and nobody but your little friends will miss you!" Nezura pulled out her wand and growled, "PREPARE TO DIE!"

"What's Mitzi doing now?" asked Cassandra, looking rather bored.

"Say, Cassandra?" said Harry. "Who is Professor Nezura's crush?"

Cassandra gave him the splipberry face again. She had a very uncanny resemblance to Professor Snape when she did that. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

Malfoy sarcastically replied, "No...we want you to keep us in suspense!"

"Okay," Cassandra said solemnly and began to walk toward the door, glad to get out.

"No, really, tell us," said Harry. The Slytherin looked about to see if Nezura was looking and whispered something to Malfoy. He got the look like he had right before he threw up again.

"You've got to be joking!" he shouted. "Nezura's dating _Professor Ebonyste AGAIN_?!"

Cassandra nodded. "And what a couple they make!" she said with as much sarcasm as she could manage. "Honestly, if they wind up married, I'll kill myself without any hesitation."

"Will you?" piped Hermione. "I thought your kind can't die."

"What a stupid thought, Hermione!" snapped Cassandra. "I can die just as easily as you. She's a tyrant, trust me," groaned a very unhappy Cassandra as she pulled out more money. "Now, excuse me…I've got to pay this one pitiful child for eating my meal."

A cell phone began to ring. Nezura picked it up and looked at the location...Hogsmeade Dueling Arena. She answered lovingly, "Hello?" What sounded like someone talking could be heard. Nezura began again. "Oh, hi, sweetness!" The students gagged. "No, I didn't mean you, Juno! Gee, you can be such a pervert!"

Harry laughed. "Isn't this sickening?"

"Sure is, and the sad part is I bet he's getting more than all of us put together!" groaned Malfoy. "Cassandra was _right_ to gag." Everyone looked around. "Speaking of the devil, where'd she wander off to _now_?"

"Yeah! Blue's my favorite color, too! Have they got that in sapphire?" piped Nezura. "You're so sensitive! I never would have known. You do such a good job hiding it!" She was still jabbering on the phone.

Finally, Harry and the others decided it would be better to eavesdrop on Cassandra than listen to Nezura's giggling fits. "It's bound to be more fun." Nothing interesting was happening there either. At least not yet...

"Did that rosehip tonic come in yet, Angeles?" asked Cassandra. Her sharp nails were tapping the counter with impatience.

Suddenly, a redheaded woman with a gentle face appeared. "Sure did, Cassandra; so…do you want to make a purchase?"

"Indeed," said Cassandra. "So, tell me, have you heard anything about the Accidents?"

"Are you talking about the Fenrir Accident, one before that, or the one about the American teacher?" Angeles inquired. "I read the Nightly Oracle, sweetheart; I know these things."

"What about my parents?"

"Your _parents_?" asked the woman. "What about them?"

"What are they up to?" asked Cassandra. "Did they say anything about me to you recently?"

"Claudius said nothing about you, but Lydia wouldn't shut up about how proud she is of you." The lady handed a vial of black liquid to Cassandra. "Here you go, dear."

Cassandra got a very upset look on her face, but then it turned to anger as she saw Ron hiding behind a cabinet. "Hi!" he said, trying to make the vampire calm down.

"Hi," she said, and then pulled Ron's ear and started walking. She was going to take him to Nezura, who was still jabbering away on her cell phone. Ron was groaning because Cassandra's sharp nails were beginning to pierce his skin.

"I know everyone's ready to leave, so we'll go in a minute," said Nezura. Suddenly, Cassandra rushed in, still pulling Ron by the ear. Harry had silently followed, not wanting Cassandra to find out he'd been snooping. Nezura gave Cassandra a cold look and hissed, "Can't you see I'm on the phone? Let go of Ron this instant!" Nezura scowled as Cassandra tried to talk to her. Ron finally managed to break free on his own. "No! Not you, Don!" she squealed in sheer and terrible delight. Some people gagged.

"Maybe it's true what they say," Hermione spoke up. "Maybe love really _is_ blind..."

"Cassandra's hands are the Jaws of Death!" grumbled Ron. "What a grip!"

Angeles rushed out, her black robes fluttering behind her. "What were you students doing…spying on us?"

"We were just curious," said Harry. "We're sorry."

Nezura finally hung up and turned to Cassandra. "This better be important!" she hissed. "I was on the phone!"

Cassandra scowled. "I was trying to buy a present for somebody, and I found Ron spying."

"That's no reason to grab the boy by the ear! Cassandra Snape, wait until your uncle hears about this! Everyone, it's time to leave!" Nezura actually managed this in one breath.

On Monday, Nezura interrupted Potions to tell Snape what his niece had done to Ron. Morty was there, too. "Almost tore his ear off, just because he was snooping!"

"I would have done the same," muttered Snape.

"Ron's a prefect," Morty said, tapping his foot. "He should have known better."

"Oh, he does," said another voice.

Snape, Morty, and Nezura turned to see the jolly face of Ebonyste. "Don!" said Nezura. "Hello!"

"Adonis, remove yourself from my classroom. This is absolutely none of your business." Snape looked in disgust at Belvedere. "And take your flea-bitten partner-in-crime with you!"

Ebonyste laughed. "Look, Snivellus; I'm now a Hawkbane and I have authority over you and Mitzi. Belvedere's my dog, and I don't mind letting him roam the halls with me during my planning period."

"Are the rumors I heard about you two true?" asked Parvati, popping out of the room.

"No!" yelled Ebonyste, acting on impulse. "It's all lies!"

"Patil, get back in the classroom!" Snape snarled. "NOW!"

Nezura giggled and replied, "No, silly! Yes, the rumors are true!"

Snape rolled his eyes, and slammed the door. "Those two make the worst couple I've ever seen!" he thundered at the students, and sat down. "Get back to your lesson immediately."

However, Harry could hear Nezura, Ebonyste, and Morty through the door. "That doesn't matter when you're in love, does it, Don?"

"Isn't that cute?" said Morty, laughing. "How long will it be until you're holding hands in the hall where everyone can see you?" Harry heard footsteps, so apparently Morty had left.

"Shut up!" thundered Ebonyste.

"Good idea, Morty!" shouted Nezura, "why _don't_ we hold hands where everyone can see us?!"

When Harry and the others got to see the couple later at dinner, Nezura was very excited. She then grabbed Ebonyste's hand and started frolicking in the hall, where several students were absolutely appalled to see this sort of behavior. However, the Foreign Magic teacher looked like he was being led to the torture chamber. He obviously wasn't having as much fun as Nezura. And a week later, Ebonyste broke up with Nezura. "Honestly, he has nothing to be proud of," Nezura snarled. "He's _such_ an asshole!" Snape, Fenrir, and Morty wouldn't stop laughing at her, either.

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphhphp

_Well, hello again my fellow Nemesarists! I decided to give you another update on my story, seeing as we are so close to the end of my tale! I do hope that, even though I'm not receiving any feedback or reviews, you are enjoying this tale just the same! However, I would greatly appreciate it if you would please drop me a review after you finish this chapter! I certainly don't expect anyone to review every single chapter, but I would like for you to review every once in a while!! Please, please review!! It really does matter to all of us writers out there! We don't know if we're doing a good job or a bad job unless you, the readers, tell us!!!_

_Take care everyone, and Happy Valentines Day, just a bit early!!! LOL_

_Sincerely, Professor M. Skylarke_


	39. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight:

Absences Due to Ailment

"Never again will I think Transfiguration is a pushover class!" Harry sighed, lying down on the Common Room sofa later the same day. "I don't want to turn a toad into a pocketknife again…_ever_."

"I'm just glad that McGonagall didn't assign us an essay, and assumes we'll study the material for our next lesson," said Ron. "That makes things so much easier to work on. You _know_ most of us won't—"

"Speak for yourselves," Hermione cut Ron short, looking up from a notebook, and petting Crookshanks. "Harry, you look a tad sick. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said, clutching his stomach. In truth, it hurt so bad, he felt like his entire gut was experiencing the Crucatius Curse. His brow was a little sweaty, and very hot, and his vision was a tad blurry.

"Maybe you ate something bad?" Ron suggested.

"If I left The Greasy Spoon without food poisoning, I don't think that Hogwarts food could get me sick," Harry said, trying to be a bit funny. He found himself laughing a little bit with Ron and Hermione, until it hurt too much to continue. "Ugh…"

"Are you okay?" Ron asked. "I mean, Harry, you look about as pale as Ahsimal…and he's an albino. That's not a good sign."

"Maybe you should go to Madame Pomfrey and get looked at," Hermione said. "I'm worried you might be coming down with something."

"I'll be fine," Harry said, folding his arms. "I just need to get a little sunlight."

"Sure," Hermione said sarcastically as she grabbed Harry's right arm; Ron got the left one. "We're going to the Infirmary…right now."

"But," Harry argued, being dragged, "I'll be _fine_. Look, it can't be anything serious—"

"Madame Pomfrey's our school nurse…she's here to help anyone who's sick or injured," Ron said. "Have you got something against her? She's not Snape, mate."

Before Harry could answer, he got so dizzy that he vomited. "Alright," Harry said, his throat burning like fire. "I'll go get help."

"And we'll help you get there," Hermione added, getting a firmer grip on Harry's arm. However, after a few steps, Harry fainted.

_hpphphphphphhphphphphphphhphphphphphphphhphphphphphphphhphphphphphhp_

"Ah, you woke up," said Madame Pomfrey. "Potter, you've been out for a bit over a week."

"What?!" Harry asked, trying to get up, to find that he was still as weak as ever. "What've I missed?"

"You missed Exorcism, two Potions classes, Foreign Magic, Necromancy, Divination, three Defense Against the Dark Arts classes—Professor Hemlock's worried about you, too—and Curses & Rootwork…Skylarke was just in here, checking up on you." Madame Pomfrey pointed to a mirror on the table and said, "Oh, and Cassandra Snape left that for you…said it was a Get Well present, or something like that."

"What happened?" Harry asked, looking at all the Get Well cards and candies…as well as Cassandra's magic mirror, which he recalled was known as one of the three Mirrors of Macedethe and could allow him to see and hold conversations with the Dead.

"There was another attack," Madame Pomfrey said, sitting on the side of the bed, "but that was to be expected, right? Josh Goldman was attacked, but he's a tough lad…he lived to tell the tale…and another death occurred, but it wasn't the fault of the gorgonix."

"Who?" Harry asked. "Was it anyone I know…er…_knew_?"

"No," Madame Pomfrey said, folding her arms. "Don't worry about that."

"But…what if it _was_ somebody I knew?" Harry countered.

"It was a Second Year Ravenclaw, Potter," said Madame Pomfrey. "And he said he didn't want Ahsimal to even do so much as _touch_ his body. The child had issues…"

"Anything else?" Harry asked, almost a bit too sick to stomach anymore than what he'd already heard.

"Besides you having to go to a Saturday School session, you mean?" Madame Pomfrey asked, folding her arms. "Oh, yes…there's more news. Constanza is taking the Dueling Club to the Hogsmeade Dueling Arena this Saturday, even the First Years. Besides that, the other news that might come into interest for you is the fact that Hagrid wanted me to tell you that your griffin wants a visit."

Harry laughed until it hurt to do so; he'd completely forgotten about Godric! "So, there was good news?"

"You're going to need to stay in here for another couple of days," said Madame Pomfrey, "but not all news is bad this time. Constanza sent her son in here to check up on you."

Harry looked up to see, "Cecil?"

"Yes indeedy," said Cecil, jumping onto the bed with a box of Mood Drops. "These are for you, from my parents. Mum especially was worried about you. Dad…well…he seemed a little concerned. I could care less, though; I'm screwed whether you _or_ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wins in the end."

"Cecil Quirrell, that is QUITE enough!" Madame Pomfrey snapped, dragging the boy out of the Infirmary. "You're going back up to your mother's quarters to have your tutoring session with Professor Lupin this instant!"

"But what if I already finished all my work?" Cecil countered. "I finished hours ago. Can't I go outside and laugh at stupid people?"

"That's for your mother or her girlfriend to decide," Madame Pomfrey snorted. "Just get out of here." She handed Cecil a lollipop and booted him out the door rather rudely. "You heard me! OUT!"

_hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphph_

It was a Thursday evening in late February when Harry got out of the Infirmary, and there was quite a crowd for the pre-Hogsmeade meeting for the Dueling Club. "I'm glad you all decided to show up," Stanzi said, standing in front of the entire crowd in the auditorium. "We will be going this Saturday to the Dueling Arena, as I'm sure your professors have alerted you. Now, I take it everyone who is a Second Year or younger has an upperclassman or chaperone to hang out with on this trip? I'm keeping track of my son. Only one of your teachers is going with us, and that's Professor Lethe. She said she could part with looking over the Saturday School crowd—for those who missed too many days of school this year to get credit—to take some other people Dueling for the sake of education."

"That's hokum and poppycock, in my opinion; I just think Professor Lethe wants to hang out with her girlfriend. Quirky woman." Harry sniggered a bit at Malfoy's comment.

"Quirky? That she is," Marcus agreed. "I've never seen anybody _that_ scared of Snape before in my life."

"Now, I am going to call out the names of club members who have missed too many days of school to go on this trip," Stanzi said. "You few who can't go with us, you have my deepest sympathy. I'll try to arrange a secondary trip to the Arena for you guys, alright? Now…who won't be going?" She pulled out a piece of parchment and said, "Cassandra Snape, due to the backfiring of the Macedalion Charm at the beginning of the year and excess absences due to incarceration. Pansy Parkinson, for being in the Infirmary due to gorgonix attack, and playing hooky in Curses & Rootwork. Seamus Finnigan, for being dead for an entire month. Hermione Granger, for being incapacitated for quite some time around Christmas, and because you requested it…" Her list continued for a minute or two, calling out some underclassmen Harry didn't know. "To those of you who miss this trip, I'm sorry. I will try my best to reschedule a trip, just for you, I promise!"

"Have fun in Saturday School, Potter," Malfoy said in a mock-sweet voice. "I've heard it's dreadfully boring…especially if you don't have any work to do. While I'm having fun, Dueling people in Hogsmeade, I'll think of your misery and enjoy my trip even more."

"Ron," Hermione said. "You're going to stay with us, right? RON?! Ugh…well…it was worth a try…"

"Yet, you've probably figured out that there's a little more to this lesson than meets the eye," Stanzi said. "We're going to have more Dueling practice, and here's a newsflash for all of you…the Arena allows cheating, since it's true to life. What Professor Hemlock's been telling you about blocking, and what Professor Skylarke was teaching you about curses and jinxes, will come quite in handy! The only thing you can't do—this is a no-brainer—is use the Forbidden Curses…more commonly known as the Unforgivable Curses. Let's go over those again, so there's no confusion! I'm pretty sure most of the First through Fourth Years haven't covered that." She pulled out a piece of paper. "Now, I've got permission to try each of them _once_ on my test subject…the Zombie of the Slytherin Common Room."

"Regulus Black," Cassandra said flatly to Harry and Hermione. "I'm sure you remember our first class with Darius."

Stanzi was trying her best to be theatrical on the stage, taking long strides, and exaggerating her own movements. "Now, I'm going to make my motions a lot larger than they have to be, so you get the gist of things. Regulus! Come forward, please." The Zombie didn't obey her. "Come _on_! MOVE IT!" Still, he didn't obey. "WHY WON'T YOU OBEY ME?!" She looked outraged.

"I'm the Revivor of this Zombie, Professor," said Pansy. "He can't hear you, or anybody else, but me."

"Call him over to me so I can finish my demonstration, Parkinson!" Stanzi said angrily.

"I've got Saturday School," Pansy said, folding her arms. "Why do I have to participate in a demonstration that doesn't include me?"

"Do you want to go to the Arena with the secondary group or not?" Stanzi threatened. "Besides, I'll award twenty points to Slytherin if you cooperate."

"Regulus, go toward Professor Talus and then stand still," Pansy said loudly to the Zombie, who then, of course, obeyed. She grinned as she walked back to her seat, knowing she'd just won Slytherin some extra points.

"Now that my test subject has finally cooperated," Stanzi began, pulling her petite wand out of a pocket, "I can show all of you what each of these curses do, and tell you why they are illegal to use on other Witches, Wizards, and anything alive…unless it's a life-or-death situation and you have no other choice." She tapped her wand to her left cheek a couple of times, and said, "I'm beginning now; pay close attention, since I can't show you this but once." Regulus just stood there. "First…the Imperius Curse; this Curse…er…I'm horrid at explaining Curses. MORTY!"

Morty started walking up toward Stanzi, not looking very thrilled. "I don't like being called like a dog, Constanza." Some of the students began to bark like dogs, just to vex him further. "I never forget a face, children. Do some of you _want_ to have detention with me? I can assure you…I had the reputation of giving the worst detentions at the Universities I taught at before here! LéAvíans, Lazulien, and Albertus Magnus U really had to put a stopper to my antics; it wasn't my fault the students were pampered brats." He waved his wand a bit, a little smoke coming out of the end. "And some of you are no different."

"Sorry about that," Stanzi said, patting Morty on the shoulder and laughing nervously. "Could you please explain what each of these Curses do before I test them out on my test subject?"

"Do you have legal permission to do that?" Morty asked suspiciously. "I'd hate to have you get in trouble with the authorities…especially after what you did to Lawrence Von Dorian."

"What?" Stanzi asked, confused. "All I did was stalk him! How was I supposed to keep away from somebody that gorgeous?" She tapped her foot and said, "Morty, explain the Unforgivable Curses to the audience." Morty just sneered and remained silent. "Ugh…what's WRONG with you?!"

"Say the magic word, Stanzi," Morty teased.

"Oh, please!" Stanzi said sarcastically.

"The Imperius Curse is a spell which gives you control over another person's body," Morty began. "The Crucatius Curse is perhaps the cruelest spell to use on another person for torture purposes," after mentioning that one, he shivered a bit, yet continued. "As for the final one…the _Avada Kedavra_…that's a Death Curse. There _are_ others, but this is the quickest, yet most painful, way to die." He walked up closer to the students, bending down to face some of them very closely. "However, there are some that I have discovered which are just as horrible that are perfectly legal…"

"That's disturbing," Stanzi said, blanching a bit, "because I know you probably use them." She flinched when Morty scowled at her. "Sorry…it's probable."

Morty kept keeping eye contact with the students and said, "You're safe from the Unforgivable Curses, or as safe as you can be when they're outlawed, but believe me…there are some worse Curses. How about I show all of you a few of them after Stanzi's done with—"

"DO IT!" shouted the club members. "PLEASE!"

"Very well," Morty said, standing back up. "I'll need Professor Ahsimal to be in the room, though, since most of the ones I am talking about have the potential to be lethal." He gave a polite bow, and walked backstage.

"Three guesses which House HE'S an Alumnus from," Stanzi said sarcastically, "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin. Okay, everyone, now that the Unforgivable Curses—forbidden by the law, mind you—have been defined, how'd we like to see them in action?"

"YES!" shouted most of the club members.

Regulus the Zombie just stood there, blankly staring at Pansy. "Let's begin," Stanzi said, grinning as she pulled out her wand. "Now pay VERY close attention, since I can only do each of these _once_." With a flick of her wand, she muttered, "_Imperio!_", which seemed to have no effect on Regulus for a while, until he did a cartwheel on stage, then saluted Stanzi. He looked rather unhappy.

"Could a First or Second Year guess which one that was?" A little girl in the front raised her hand. "Yes, Weasley?"

"That was the Imperius Curse, right?" asked Winnefred. "Right?"

"That's correct," Stanzi said. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, watch what I do with this next one." The effects of the first Curse had just worn off on Regulus as Stanzi flicked her wand again and said clearly, "_Crucio!_" The poor Zombie screamed in pain, writhing on the floor. Sounds coming from his mouth were so horrible, one would never think such noises could come from anything that used to be human. Stanzi finally took it off, and then said, "Now, another First or Second Year, please! Which one was THAT?"

"That was the Crucatius Curse, Professor Talus," said Lavinia, who was popping her head out of the crowd so Stanzi (and everyone else) could see her.

"I'm not really a Professor," said Stanzi, "but I'll take that as a complement. And yes, that _was_ the Crucatius Curse. Thank you, Thompson…ten points to Hufflepuff for your answer." She smiled wickedly, obviously enjoying herself, and said, "That leaves me with only the most famous of the three, thanks to none other than You-Know-Who!"

"You're not going to use that on my Zombie, are you?" Pansy complained. "Aw…come ON! I like having Regulus to do my bidding, Madame Talus!"

"Oh, you can have him," Stanzi said. "Professor Ahsimal's in the room, so this Curse will not be all that bad _this time_, but remember that in the presence of a Death Eater, or any Dark witch or Wizard, you won't always have good old Darius around to help you out. Do I have a volunteer from the audience?" No, she didn't have any. "Aw…come on! It's only temporary—"

"I'll do it," said Josh, walking up to the front with his right arm in a cast. "This can't be as bad as being chewed on by that damn gorgonix." He stood up in front of everyone and said, "Hi! Look at me, everyone! I'm volunteering for the Death Curse!"

"Pretty stupid volunteer work, Goldman," Cassandra muttered softly enough so Josh couldn't hear from the stage, but loud enough for Harry to hear her.

"Josh, wave a temporary goodbye to your classmates," Stanzi said sweetly. Josh did so, and then seemed to realize what it was he'd agreed to do in front of everyone. He blanched and ran off the stage, screaming. "Don't make this hard for me," Stanzi said angrily. "I'm still going to use the spell on you!" Josh was frantically trying to open the locked doors, but it was to no avail. "Ahem…"

Stanzi cleared her throat, and swished her wand at the defiant Hufflepuff. "_Avada Kedavra!_" Josh fell to the floor limply, obviously dead. Several of the students—ages eleven to seventeen—were horrified at what had just happened, and began to scream and try to get out. "SIT BACK DOWN!" Stanzi said loudly, so everyone could hear her. "Goldman will be fine," she said soothingly, "and Hufflepuff will be receiving a hundred points for having such a volunteer."

"Here I am, Stanzi," Darius said, walking in with the bell bandolier. He picked up Josh and walked behind the curtains, which probably led to an exit door.

"Goldman WILL be fine," Stanzi said firmly. "Don't worry about him! Now…Professor Skylarke will show you some Curses and Jinxes which are legal, yet he thinks should be illegal. I shall volunteer for these, since most of you are being cowards."

Morty came up to the front, and waved his wand at Stanzi. "_Malidicitus Corpsus_," he chanted flatly. Stanzi's face began to turn a deep shade of purple, and she was making some rather horrible gagging noises. Her hands were clutching at her neck, and she looked like she was about to faint…or die. "What I just used is called an Asphyxiation Charm," he said very calmly as Stanzi continued to gag. "Thanks to this spell, Constanza here is choking to death on her own tongue. This is also the spell Miss Cassandra Snape used to stop Professor Parenein earlier this year. It's not illegal until your subject dies…then you've committed murder." He waved his wand at Stanzi again, and took the Charm off.

Stanzi gasped for air, and then the color in her face went back to normal. "Thanks for that demonstration—"

"There's more I'd like to cover, if you don't mind," Morty said smoothly. "But, if you do mind, I will have no problem walking out of here and teaching them in Curses & Rootwork tomorrow."

"Go on…do more…" Stanzi said nervously.

"Here's another spell I feel should be made illegal," Morty said as if he were instructing a class (but most people found this better than class). "This one is called the Priaxa Curse. It turns your bone marrow into molten lead, and can kill if left on your victim for over half an hour. If you take it off…it just hurts them rather badly." Stanzi didn't look too thrilled to be Morty's volunteer after he said that. "_Priaxa Nervata_," he said calmly, as Stanzi got another horrid spell fired at her. She began to run about in circles, screaming, but nothing seemed to be wrong with her on the outside. "She is panicking because her bones are fiery hot…and the pain is coming from the interior."

"FIX THIS AT ONCE, MORTIMER!" Stanzi shouted angrily, as she continued to scream in pain.

"_Priaxa Requiescat,_" Morty calmly said, getting the Priaxa Curse to wear off. "Stanzi, I can quit demonstrating at any time—"

"I'll be fine," Stanzi said in a rather huffy voice. "A few more, okay? This is for their education."

"Yeah, but what kind of a crackpot _are_ you, taking these hits like a true victim? You actually _want_ to be hit?" Morty shrugged his shoulders. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with me," Stanzi said. "I'm just tougher than most people. Come on, fire away…I can handle you and your Curses."

"You've got issues," Morty grumbled, as he pointed his wand at Stanzi once more. "I really think this is a _bad_ idea…" He looked at the students and said, "I'm more than ready to quit harming your Dueling Instructor."

"That'll be okay too," Stanzi said, brushing herself off. She patted Morty on the back and said, "Thank you for that lovely demonstration. Now…"

"I can't believe she put up with that!" Hermione said, amazed. "I'm sure that only Stanzi Talus-Quirrell would actually volunteer to guinea-pig for Skylarke. I wonder what got her to keep up with everything as well as she did…she's a tough lady."

"Yes, but not Lethe," Ron said, laughing. "You should see how the Unseelie Court made her behave." He looked at Harry and Hermione and said, "It's a pity you guys can't go to Hogsmeade with me for this one."

"Tell us about it, okay?" Harry said bitterly, wondering how bad Saturday School would be, and who would be supervising it. "Hermione and I have to make up for lost credit time…most of it's for reasons we couldn't help, either."

"Still…I can't believe Madame Talus didn't stand up for you," Ron said. "I mean, doesn't she like you?"

"Yes, I think she does," Harry said, thinking about the time Stanzi had spent in that mirror. "But, Ron, she wasn't the one who created the Saturday School list. It's not her fault I've got to attend."

"I'm not even sure what made you sick," Hermione said. "If the Greasy Spoon didn't do it—like you said—then I'm not sure what could have made you as ill as you were…I swear, you were far from healthy."

"But, really, she should have stood up for you and Hermione," Ron said. "It won't be all that fun going without you—"

"Then DON'T go!" Hermione and Harry shouted.

"You know I'll be keeping you company at Saturday School," Cassandra said, popping up out of nowhere. "I've been before, you know. It's horrible. You sit there…and sit there…and do virtually nothing."

"Thanks for giving us the warning," Hermione said. "I'll bring my textbook for Professor Furrier in there and learn a bit more about Pyromancy. Aarel made it look interesting, so I'm going to find out as much as I can about it."

"It's hard to master," Cassandra said. "I tried studying the advanced forms of that myself, actually. I could only get to the part where I could view what was happening to other people through the fire…I never could scorch other things and play with little balls of fire like—"

"Hello," Aarel said, coming into the crowd about as mysteriously as Cassandra had done a minute earlier.

"Hi, Aarel," everyone said in unison.

"How did you like the Dueling meeting?" Cassandra asked. "We've got a rather interesting person in charge of that club, you know. How many people would guinea-pig for Skylarke?"

Ron, Hermione, and Harry looked at each other in confusion; they'd just been talking about that!

"Not too many, I take it?" Aarel asked. "He seems to be one of the better teachers here, unlike that dreadful Snitchgrass woman. Mean as a snake, that one. I hope someone locks her door from the outside and lets her starve to death up there…she's nothing but temper and heavy accent."

"You've got quite a good point," Hermione said. "But—for some reason or another—Snitchgrass is in the Hawkbane Society and Skylarke isn't. That puts her in a higher standard than Skylarke."

"Skylarke deserves to be a Hawkbane," Aarel argued. "He works ten times harder than Snitchgrass, actually supplies us with a good lesson, and treats us like responsible adults…yet understands why we all do certain things. He's not so old that he forgot what it's like to be our age." He looked up and said, "I know all about the fall of the house of Skylarke." Suddenly, a rat passed by. "Hey, is that rat somebody's pet?"

Ron looked down and his jaw dropped; it was Scabbers. "That's not a rat, Aarel…that's an Animagus."

"What?" Aarel asked, confused. "How would you know? I can't pick Fallowin out of a flock of crows when he shifts…until I see how he eats. How do you know that rodent isn't really a rodent?"

"Trust me," Ron said. "I know."

"Suit yourself," Aarel said, picking up the rat by the tail. He dangled it in the air for a moment and said, "Oh, this _has_ to be someone's pet. Look how fat he is!"

The waiting was torturous. What might have been only an instant when spent in the Dueling Club or on the Quidditch Field…it all moved by as if it would take eternity. So, Harry sat there, knowing that before the day was over and through, he would be out of here. The long periods of boredom always seemed to last forever, or so it felt to him. There would be no talking, no sleeping, no eating, no drinking, and most certainly no playing in the Great Hall. Everybody sat as close as they could to their friends, but it was useless; anyone passing notes would be caught immediately. The professors in charge of this punishment for excessive absences were not easily fooled, and they were all far from being blind. Nobody was immune; everyone was stuck in this silent, restless concentration camp. Saturday School had come into session.

Pansy Parkinson had brought a dirty magazine to keep herself occupied, but Snitchgrass confiscated it as soon as it was discovered. "But, Professor Snitchgrass!" Pansy argued. "This is what I brought to entertain myself while waiting for Saturday School to be over!"

"Zen I suggest you vind somezing else, Parkinson," said Snitchgrass as she walked over to her chair once more. "Now, remember…zere is to be no talking."

There were several unhappy people in here, but they just had to deal with it, just like everyone else who had missed too many days. The reasons varied from the ridiculous (such as people like Hermione who had half-requested it), to the typical (being sick, playing hooky, or surviving gorgonix attacks), to the outrageous (like Cassandra, for spending ample days in Azkaban), and all the way to the horrible (people who missed too many days of school because they had died). However, the reason didn't matter; they were all here nonetheless.

Pansy simply sat there, upset that she didn't have anything to do anymore. She had completed her work, obviously, so she started drawing some rather disturbing sketches _excessively_ on a piece of parchment she mooched from the person next to her. Everyone looked at her—as well as that repulsive scribble—for a moment or two, but then got back to their silent sullenness about the inequities of being put up to this agony while their friends were out having fun, enjoying their trip to the Dueling Arena.

'_There must be some way out of here_,' thought Harry as he sat there, drumming on the table. "You stop zat!" growled Professor Snitchgrass, her pale face showing a bit of a purple color. Not only the punished students, but the teachers as well, looked at the Advanced Astrology teacher to see what she would say next. "'Arry, you vill be cleaning out coffins in Professor Ahsimal's room for za rest of za veek if you keep zat racket up for another _second_." She then grumbled to herself, "Honestly, za Sixth Years are za vorst...zat is za reason why I vould rather vork vith za Third Years. _Hopefully, _most of zem mature over za summer."

"That's deep dreaming right there," Snape said, looking at Snitchgrass. "Sixth Years usually feel that they will rule the campus the next year, and feel they're preparing themselves for more than just N.E.W.T.s."

"You vere zat vay, Severus?" Snitchgrass countered. "I vas a Prefect ven I vas zat age."

"I know," Snape said flatly. "You tell that story so many times…how could I forget?"

"I brought tea," said Aurelius, taking a seat in-between the two. "Which one of you wanted the lemon in it?"

Harry moved on to trying to flex his wrists without making much noise. He got a very angry glare from Snitchgrass and decided it would be best to do something else. He seemed to be bothering several people by just acting like a typical sixteen-year-old wizard. '_Weirdoes_,' he thought with pleasurable satisfaction. It was strange how quickly his entire table got uneasy around him. He looked at the large oak doors, which lead to different places where escape might have been possible. He knew what awaited him in each room in every single one of the halls…or so he thought.

When Snitchgrass and the other teachers in charge of Saturday School weren't looking his way, Harry slipped out of his seat and made sure he had some means of escape. He opened the doors quietly and went down the staircase. The closest corridor to the outdoors was to his left. In there were multitudes of empty, barren rooms that were occupied by classes on weekdays. Harry then took his chances and rushed down the tiled walkway. If someone had been walking by and heard him, they would have simply thought the noise to be Mr. Filch, the school janitor, or just another student walking around and enjoying his or her Saturday. He prayed with all his might that nobody spotted him on the run, _especially_ a professor. But, as luck would have it, Harry bumped into Marcus after he was pretty far from the cafeteria. "Marcus!" he whispered. "What are you doing out here?"

"There's no time to explain in detail," Marcus said, "But I'm dodging Saturday School. Quick, follow me before someone finds us."

Harry gladly obeyed his friend and followed Marcus down the corridor until they came to the Dungeon. Marcus opened the door gently and led his friend into the room. Harry looked to see all of his closest friends were all in there, too. Cassandra, Hermione, Ron, Blaise, Cho, Rick…they were all having a good time with some sodas, chewing gum, and a dartboard that shared a striking resemblance to Professor Snape. "So, Harry," said Hermione. "What exactly got you to come to Snape's classroom all of a sudden? Was it a spur of the moment?"

"Go on, tell us," said Cassandra, smirking comfortably. "We were all waiting for you."

"We'd like to know what was keeping you, Harry!" said Blaise as he helped himself to another stick of Juicy Fruit. He crammed it into his mouth and laughed, but suddenly stopped when he about choked. "You're usually the first one to suggest we trash this room, for crying out loud!"

"Okay, I get the picture! Just shut up for a minute," Harry said as he grabbed a soda and sat down in a desk. He stuck a piece of fresh gum under it, just because it was _Snape's_ desk. "I'll tell you what took me so long to get here. I'll give it to you in two simple words that will sum it all up for you…_Saturday School_."

"Oh dear," said Hermione. "I was at Saturday School, too, and it was nothing like I thought it would be! It sure is boring, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, laughing at how honest Hermione was being. "It's one of those torture devices that teachers give the students they don't like." Harry threw a dart at the Snape board. It missed his face, but it _did_ succeed in getting his foot. "Damn," he said jokingly, running his fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't have missed if that had been the _real_ Snape!"

"Trust me; you would," Cassandra teased, looking quite smug. "Your aim sucks."

"Well, anyway, about Saturday School," said Cho. "It's cruel and unjust, isn't it, Harry?"

Harry nodded in agreement, watching Cho's bust rise and fall. "You're right; it _is_ unfair."

"Harry?" Cho said sweetly, stroking him on the cheek seductively. Harry could feel the tips of his ears getting red. His blood warmed up as well. He thought a lot of Cho...now, all of a sudden she was interested in him? '_Someone pinch me. I must be dreaming,'_ he thought to himself.

"Yes?" Harry said in a pleasurable tone.

"Harry Potter!" she said. It was music to Harry's ears.

"What, oh sweet, sexy, beautiful angel?" Harry said dreamily. "My pretty little sex kitten…"

"Potter…" she said, her voice getting a bit stronger.

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" Harry was totally out of it at the moment…what had gone wrong? Had _sex kitten_ been a bit too strong of a phrase to try out on a girl?

"POTTER, WAKE UP AT ONCE!!!" shouted a harsh voice. Harry jumped out of his seat. He was still in the lunch room with an empty notebook, doing his Saturday School time. He hadn't gotten up out of his seat at all; he had simply gotten sleepy and dozed off. He looked up to see who he had called a "sweet, sexy, beautiful angel" as well as "pretty little sex kitten." He cringed; it was _far_ from being Cho Chang, the pretty girl he'd had his eye on for quite some time. It was none other than Professor Snape, and he didn't look too thrilled about hearing Harry call him those particular words. However, he did look slightly amused. "No credit for today's Saturday School," he said, giving off a foul grin. "You fell asleep during one of your fantasies. You know what this means."

"No, sir," said Harry. "I don't."

"It means we'll be seeing you next Saturday. Same place, same reason, same time," said Snape. He rolled his eyes and then laughed evilly, showing off his yellowish teeth. "And for your own sake, don't you _ever_ call me a 'pretty little sex kitten' again."

Harry groaned in sheer misery. Now he was stuck doing this again _next_ week, and now half the school would know how he had been hitting on the Potions Master in his sleep. "Damn…"

"Damn is right," Snape said. "What was going through your perverted sixteen-year-old head?" He sneered and said flatly, "I hope you weren't picturing me in something Lydia would normally wear around The Lair." Harry wanted to throw up…preferably on Snape.

"You did WHAT?!" Ron asked, looking pretty tired from his fun day in Hogsmeade with Lethe and Stanzi. "Harry…why? I mean…that's Snape!"

"I didn't mean to," Harry said. "I dozed off and was talking to Cho…and then Cho turned into Snape."

"The whole school knows, you know," Hermione said flatly. "I can't believe you did that, Harry. For your sake, I talked to Professor Fallowin, and he said you've made up your time for Saturday School and don't have to come to it next week—"

"Harry!" Darius said, stomping into the hallway. "I need you and Cassandra for our weekly Hawkbane meeting. You're still my sponsored students, you know…I need to keep in touch and see how I can help out. The Headmaster's requiring me to do so."

"Sorry, Darius," Harry said. "I had Saturday School."

"Is that why you missed Necromancy this week?"

"Yes," Harry said. "You know I hate missing that class."

"Yeah," Darius said, walking over to the window and looking out grimly. "I know." Suddenly, the sound of thunder could be heard. "There's been so much tragedy this year; I actually am beginning to think Juno Lethe was right in thinking closing the school temporarily was a good idea."

"It's closing?!" the Gryffindor trio was horrified.

"No," Darius said, "but it would be a good idea to do so." He sighed and then added, "I was very disappointed with how Constanza treated her Dueling Club members Thursday. You were there, in the audience…did you see what she asked Goldman to do?"

"We were there, remember?" Harry asked. "She used the Death Curse on him in front of everyone."

"Sure, it's true he wasn't too hard to Resurrect, but toying with Death like that…it's just not wise," Darius said, biting his lower lip a bit. "Something evil's going on, and this time I'm not part of it. In fact, I'm trying to stop it."

"Good for you," Ron said. "What do you mean you're not part of it 'this time?' Was there ever a time where you _were_ involved?"

Darius's eyes widened freakishly, and then he rushed down the halls, as if he were running from Mad-Eye Moody himself. "Strange," Hermione said. "You'd think he was once a Death Eater or something just as horrible the way he just behaved!"

"Yeah," Harry said, sweating a bit. "Fancy that…"

_hphphphphphphphphphphphhphphphphphphphphphphphphhphphphphphhphph_

_**Hello everyone! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to Catti66 for her very special reviews. She's been quite consistent with her reading and I really do appreciate that! Also...another huge thanks goes out to everyone else who has read up to this point. I hope that you are enjoying the story thus far. **_

_**Things will continue to get worse for the school until the gorgonix is finally discovered. It is not who you think it is! However, if you want to make a guess, send it to me in a review..and...if you get it right, I'll let you know!**_

_**Please...read and review...enjoy the new chapter...thanks to Nita, my loyal friend and beta...and my fellow Nemesarist. Love...**_

_**Professor Mortimer Skylarke.**_


	40. Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

Innovation in Sorcery: Skylarke's Theory

"I take it all of you enjoyed your weekend?" Morty asked the Curses & Rootwork class. "I know this has been long overdue, but I'm teaching all of you a brief synopsis of what the Ministry of Magic call the Dark Arts…and how to take a fresh new look at them. There is a very good chance that black magic could save your life one of these days, especially when we are so close—I believe—to having Voldemort back to full power—"

"Too late for closeness, Professor Skylarke," Hermione said, folding her arms. "He's already back, more powerful than ever." With those words, Morty looked rather unnerved, but determined to give the lesson anyway.

"Dr. Hemlock should have covered this in Defense Against the Dark Arts already, but she never has," Morty began, pulling the cord to move the curtains away from his blackboard to reveal his latest set of notes. "However, I felt that since nobody else has done so, I should inform all of you that not all things Dark are truly evil."

The notes on the board read:

**Are You Afraid of the Dark Arts?**

_Here is something to consider; a brief synopsis of each, a few recognizable examples, and where the Ministry of Magic stands with each Dark Art:_

**Rootwork**—A close cousin to Voodoo, Rootwork requires a sample of tissue from the victim for the spell to work. The damage can be trivial to catastrophic, depending on the power of the magic and intensity of the wrath.

**(Famous Rootwork Practitioner: Marie Laveau)**

**(Rootwork's Status with the Ministry: _Legal_)**

**Necromancy**—Also known as the Magic of the Dead, Necromancy involves any sort of sorcery involving talking to, conjuring, or resurrecting the Dead. Skilled Necromancers are hard to come by, and although this practice is legal, it's frowned upon.

**(Famous Necromancers: Darius Ahsimal, Morgana Le Fay, Victor Frankenstein)**

**(Necromancy's Status with the Ministry: _Legal…if you have a Necromancer's License_)**

**Absorption**—Sucking the life forces and positivity out of a person, Absorption is a hard skill to master. It is also said that this skill can ruin any survivors, but most exposed to it will die within hours. It's a horrible practice.

**(Famous Absorbers: Dementors)**

**(Absorption's Status with the Ministry: _Illegal, save for Dementors, who are monitored_)**

**Phobomancy**—Also known as the Magic of Fears, Phobomancy involves being able to present illusions upon yourself and other things to instill fear into your victim. Most Phobomancers serve or have served a powerful Dark witch or wizard.

**(Famous Phobomancers: Lycaon Fenrir, Sargon Von Dorian)**

**(Phobomancy's Status with the Ministry: Highly Monitored)**

**Possession**—A rather unreliable form of Magic, Possession can mean the victim's sharing a body with a parasitic spirit which could be another witch/wizard, a spiritual monster, or something far worse. Exorcists are hired to stop this practice.

**(Famous Possessors: Lord Voldemort, Varinia Loxias, Lucifer)**

**(Famous Possessed: Professor Quirrell, Constanza Talus-Quirrell, Legion)**

**(Possession's Status with the Ministry: _Illegal, no exceptions_)**

**Alchemy**—A close cousin to Potions and Rootwork, Alchemy requires a lot of hard work and determination to pull off. While most of the stuff about planetary metals and changing metal into gold is harmless, Alchemy also has a truly terrifying side.

**(Famous Alchemists: Albertus Magnus, Paracelsus, Nicholas Flamel)**

**(Alchemy's Status with the Ministry: _Legal, but slightly monitored_)**

**Slaying**—There is nothing more horrible than to steal from another, particularly stealing one's life. However, the Ministry of Magic still employs Slayers to viciously kill vampires, werewolves, banshees, lamiae, and other "undesirables."

**(Famous Slayers: Julius "Mortius" Cantarus, Adonis Ebonyste, Abraham Van Helsing, Thomas the Rhymer, Claire Lewn**, **Lucinda Snitchgrass, Cain Cyanis)**

**(Slaying's Status with the Ministry: _Perfectly Legal…even encouraged_)**

**Hypnotism**—Mental Manipulation describes Hypnotism rather well. A powerful Hypnotist could order thousands of people to do as he/she said, which could lead to quite a number of things…mostly horrendous consequences.

**(Famous Hypnotist: Rasputin)**

**(Hypnotism's Status with the Ministry: _Monitored_)**

**Cursing**—Placing Charms upon others (and yourself) as you please is Cursing. Curses are vast in variety, and cover many a number of things, but Cursemasters are becoming obsolete, and people are turning away from this practice.

**(Famous Cursemasters: Mortimer Skylarke, Elhazred)**

**(Cursing's Status with the Ministry: _Legal, but license is required for Dark Curses. Not monitored due to lack of interest._)**

"So…is anyone still confused?" Morty asked, looking around the room. "I can emphasize on a particular one of these and give you more detail, if you like."

"No," said Ron, grinning nervously. "This is just fine, Professor."

"Not in my opinion!" Malfoy said. "I want to learn a bit of each!"

"You're already learning Curses _and _Rootwork in here with me," Morty added, tapping his foot. "Malfoy, what else appeals to you?"

"Absorption, Possession, and Phobomancy," Malfoy said cheerily, "but I want to be a Cursemaster like you."

"We've already had that conversation, remember?" Morty replied. "Being a Cursemaster doesn't mean you can only Curse people you dislike; you've also got to remove Curses for profit. It's a high-paying job, but requires a lot of training. It takes fifteen years to get your Mage's Degree in it." He then grinned and said, "And my good friend Lycaon Fenrir has informed me that you run out of Phobomancy class, scared." Malfoy shut up after that, his cheeks turning red. "Now…I can add more up here about what each Dark Art does, if that would help you understand them a bit better."

"Please don't," Neville said. "This is good enough, Professor Skylarke."

"Has everyone copied these notes yet?" Morty looked around, and then inferred everyone had finished. "Well, get your quills ready; I'm about to show you the next set of notes." He walked around and gave everyone a copy of a rather new-looking book. "This is going to be our secondary textbook for a couple of weeks, and I am asking each and every one of you to read it and try your best to comprehend it."

"Skylarke's Theory: Innovation in Sorcery?" Hermione sounded confused. "_YOU _wrote this?"

"Yes," Morty answered. "I did, and I believe every word that I wrote in there. I am unlike Lockhart, who disbelieved everything he wrote yet played the part; and unlike Dr. Hemlock, who wrote a book, whether or not she agreed with it, just for the profit and knowledge. No…that theory in there, which I call the Grey Magic Theory, but everyone else calls Skylarke's Theory, is something I believe in, without any doubt. Look in there for a bit, and then I'll give you more notes to study for our next test."

Harry looked into his new book, and saw a picture of Morty on the left side of the inner cover. He appeared to be much happier in that photo, and much livelier, giving a polite composer's bow to his readers with a smile on his face. Harry looked through the table of contents to see there were several chapters. "Wandering Souls, Déjà vu, Alternate Personas, Considering Ceteris Paribus, Understanding Murphy's Law, ah, here we are! The Grey Magic Theory!"

"The Grey Magic Theory is my best work," Morty said. "I'm going to cover what a few of these mean—"

"What's the deal with Déjà vu in here?" asked Hermione. "It's just a feeling."

"No," Morty said. "The feeling of Déjà vu stems from your inner psyche trying to warn you…something is occurring that once occurred before. Having this sensitivity is rare, but should not be brushed off."

"What about Wandering Souls?" asked Neville. "What are they?"

"In any case where a person has been ruined by horrible events," Morty began, "he or she may be considered a wandering soul. Ghosts are of this sort as well, which is why most ghosts you'll encounter experienced grisly deaths or had someone who really hated them in their lifetimes. The only way to cure someone of this wandering is to have an accompaniment, by either having the one who loathed them to begin with join them, or find a person similar to be with them." Morty sighed and said, "However, there are certain kinds who cannot be cured. I, for one, cannot be cured from my wandering soul symptoms…unless I was to die again."

"How dreadful!" said Marcus.

"Want to know something even more dreadful, Cantarus?" Morty asked. "Your parents are partially to blame. Not that I'm holding you responsible for their barbaric acts…" Marcus looked like he was going to faint. "Anyway…is there anything else you'd like to know before we cover—"

"What does _Ceteris Paribus_ mean?" asked Ron.

"All things are held constant," Hermione said. "In Ceteris Paribus, everything remains the same as it has been, and never changes…except for one thing." She grinned and said, "I had no idea that you did research on that phenomenon, Professor Skylarke!"

"How could I not?" Morty replied, looking rather annoyed with the subject. "It was unavoidable in Camelot University…another university I taught at. Everyone's thesis had to be about Ceteris Paribus that year, so I had to supply the students with extra material."

"It isn't easy being you, is it?" asked Harry.

"It's not that bad," Morty said. "I probably make it sound worse than it really is, but in all truth, I'm mostly content with my life."

"There's no such thing as black or white magic?!" Malfoy quoted in surprise from Morty's book. "What are you trying to say in here?"

"There's no way to consider the actual witchcraft and wizardry good or bad," Morty said, "and that's really what I mean. Cornelius Fudge considered my theory controversial."

"I wonder why," Harry said sarcastically, looking deeper into the book. Morty had written all sorts of disturbing notes in there, that even Phobomancy could be used for good, and that something as harmless as Transfiguration could lead to total destruction if in the wrong hands. "Do you really believe in this?"

"Yes," Morty said flatly, a slightly poisonous tone in his voice. "I know that all of you love to think in black and white terminology…but it really is a narrow-minded way of thinking. Don't you want to open your minds to new possibilities and power?"

"Not really, thanks," Ron said. "I'm fine with thinking the Dark Arts are evil."

"Don't you understand?" Morty asked. "The whole idea that black magic is evil is just a myth…something timid people have told everyone for years…decades…millennia! This is all just a big misconception which will eventually fade away into obscurity…like amulets."

"Amulets are still used," said Hermione.

"Not as much as they used to be," Morty countered. "Now, this is up for discussion, and I challenge each of you strong-minded students to try to contradict me."

"Your theory's nothing but bull," said Lisa. "Black magic is _black_, and therefore evil. Everything else is okay, but to think the Dark Arts are practicable?! What's _wrong _with you?!"

"Nothing is wrong with me," Morty said calmly, "and I already made the affirmation that the magic isn't what makes it a Dark Art, but the will of the practitioner." Lisa stuck her tongue out at the teacher, which got him a little peeved. Everyone thought Morty wasn't the kind to dish out detention, but he was about to prove them wrong. "Turpin, you've got two choices…either you spend a detention with me, scraping gum off seat-bottoms, or you put your hand in my Retribution Tonic for ten seconds."

Lisa thought about it for a moment, and then said in a very brave voice, "Give me the jar."

"Tough girl," Harry heard Malfoy whisper to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, neat!" Aarel said, grinning a little eerily. "I didn't know anyone still knew how to make those!"

"Dat's jus wrong, yo!" Shaquan stated as Lisa screamed and hollered with her hand in the jar. "Wut's in dere?"

"How should I know?" Morty asked, grinning like Aarel. "Professor Snape made it, remember? It was a little welcoming gift. Turpin, your time with the jar is up." Lisa scurried back to her seat. "I would have given Ravenclaw several points for your sheer gut to challenge my theory—I'm still encouraging the rest of you to do so—but you stuck your tongue out at me…and I will not tolerate such puerile acts in my class. Now, anyone, do you have any thoughts as to what could prove my theory wrong?"

"He's thinking a bit too much outside the box," said Hermione. "Personally, I don't believe in Skylarke's Theory, nor did I when I first read it."

"In Skylarke's reckoning," Ron stated, "it would be okay to legalize Possession and Absorption, since it could also be used for _good_…that's wrong, and I know it. Harry, what's your opinion of all this trash-talk?"

"I think Morty's got a good point," Harry said. "In fact, I think he's making a lot of sense. A Necromancer has the potential to raise a personal armada of Zombies from the Dead to do his bidding, if he's a Dark wizard. But, he could also be like me, and simply use his power to do what I wish to do."

"And that would be…?" Hermione trailed off, waiting for Harry to finish.

"Resurrecting my parents," Harry said calmly. "I want to be able to do what Ron and I saw Cassandra do to Blaise…only better, and without the Unseelie Court."

"You mean you want to be like Quirrell in your Necromancy skills?" Hermione asked. "Sure, the guy's a weirdo, but we all saw him bring his own wife and son back to life in St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery."

"He took Necromancy I and II, you know," Ron said. "You'll have to take it next year to get that good."

"So what?" Harry said. "I'll do it. I really am interested in Necromancy."

"Why would Skylarke think Possession's alright?" Ron asked nobody in particular.

"He never said that," Cassandra said, walking up with Aarel, Blaise, and Rhianna. "But even if he did, that's what Exorcists are for. It all balances out. Besides, maybe one out of ten-thousand witches or wizards has the ability to possess people. The only two I know of who can do that are Rudolphus Lestrange and my dad."

"We don't like your dad," Harry, Ron, and Hermione all said in unison.

"Neither do I," Cassandra said calmly, "but I really have no say-so in who my parental figures are. I like my mum's new boyfriend better."

"Who is it?" Ron asked curiously.

"You wouldn't know him," Cassandra said. "His name is Ahab Nott and he's an Exorcist. I think I already told you about him."

"You said he's richer than Mr. Malfoy," replied Ron. "You never told us his name."

"Well, now you know," Cassandra blandly stated. "He's a pretty nice fellow, very well-mannered, and doesn't yell at my kid brother."

"Does he yell at you?" asked Hermione.

"I've been up here at Hogwarts, and I've only managed to meet Ahab once or twice," replied Cassandra. "I'm sure he won't, but I can't tell for sure."

"Your mum is gorgeous, but I think she's got a little problem picking her boyfriends," Ron said. "Is she turned on by Death Eaters or something? Nott confessed to being one and got put in Devestra until his lawyer got him out."

Cassandra blinked and said, "Oh, I don't know; my mum's business isn't mine. I'm hardly ever home anyway…so why should I care where she picks her beaux?"

"Your mum likes Harry," said Hermione, "but what's she going to do if her boyfriend doesn't? Eh?"

"How should I know?" Cassandra spat.

"You're her daughter!" the trio spat back.

"Well, back to the Theory," Cassandra said, trying to change subject. "Harry, where do you stand? Do you believe or disbelieve it?"

"I believe it," Harry said. "Sometimes normal magic isn't strong enough to do something, and I don't see anything Dark with Necromancy. Curses, perhaps…Absorption, definitely…but Necromancy? No…"

"Great," Cassandra replied, looking a bit relieved. "Now I'm not the only one who believes Morty and his Theory." She grinned a bit and added, "You knew that Skylarke's Theory is the foundation for You-Know-What, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Do you think Voldemort believes in that?"

"I think he might tell his followers that, but disbelieves it himself," Cassandra theorized. "Doing what he does…if he believed in that Theory, he'd have focused on the good and evil side of things…we only have seen half of his puzzle's pieces, and something tells me the other half is nonexistent in him." She let out a long sigh and said, "But, surely, there is only one way to find out about him…and that would be to join the Death Eaters—which I refuse to do, since I am pledged elsewhere—or get Mum to sneak for me—"

"WHAT?!" Harry shouted, horrified. "Your mum is a Death Eater?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't know?" Cassandra asked. "She attends every meeting. She's considered to be in the worst seven, and the only problem for the Ministry is that nobody has the guts or ability to pin the blame on her. I'm pretty sure you didn't think I got my wit and sneakiness from my father." She then looked at Harry and said, "But, for a Death Eater, my mum's got a little flaw. You see, she admires and actually likes you. She'd never harm you, even if Voldemort requested her personally to do it. I forgot to mention that my mother isn't an obedient little lapdog; she's taken the Crucatius several times for doing and speaking what was on her mind…and I'm sure she'd take it again if it meant saving you."

"A noble Death Eater?" Hermione thought out loud. "That's strange."

"She likes you and Ron, too," Cassandra announced. "Once I was pardoned and went back home, it was always _Harry this_, _Hermione that_, and _Ron this_."

"That's kind of funny," Ron said, grinning. "I like your mum too."

"How can you not?" Cassandra asked. "I'm not sure whether that's you or your hormones talking, though. Mum's a lamia; men can't resist her…even Slayers have a mental battle about getting rid of lamiae, and that's why most lamia-Slayers are women."

"Dr. Hemlock wrote the same thing!" Hermione said, surprised. "You remember?"

"I forgot she said that," Cassandra said flatly. "I was just stating a fact."

"Everyone's been patient in here," Darius said, smiling. Sargon sat in the corner, reading a book and paying the class minimal attention. "I thank you for waiting so long for this lesson. We're using the telephones in Necromancy Classroom Two to communicate to the Dead. I've got something here which you'll probably never see again unless you become a Necromancer…the phonebook for the Necropolis. Now, are you ready?"

"Yes!" everyone cheered. "Teach us, Professor Ahsimal!"

"That's what I'm being paid to do," Darius replied in a rather eager tone. "Everyone, please…pay attention. I can only have a couple of students up here at a time. Look through the phonebook and select someone Dead to call on the…ahem…'bone phone'. Get the number in your head, because you're going to call it and greet yourself."

"Who goes first?" asked Malfoy, sounding a bit too enthusiastic for his own good.

"I'm going by academic status in here," Darius said. "Best grades get to go first. That means…Potter, Snape, Granger, Malfoy, and Zabini are to go first. Potter, how about you and Zabini get in the front of the line?"

"That's perfectly alright with me!" Blaise said, very pleased to break in line to the very front. "I'm usually in the back for the other classes."

"That's because you're easy to push, Zabini," Malfoy sneered, giving Blaise a very rude shove…which indeed caused the frail boy to fall to the floor. "Fun, too…"

"Ten points from Slytherin for rudeness," Darius wrote in a little notepad. "Yes, Malfoy…I already know what you're going to ask me. Although I'm not officially an alumnus from any of the Hogwarts houses, I am still allowed to deduct points for ill behavior and other things I find unnecessary." He loomed over Blaise and then said, "Ah…great selection for your phone call. I'm sure Odysseus will really appreciate the fact that today's youth still enjoy his story. Potter, who are you going to call?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to call my parents?" Harry replied, showing Darius the phone number. "2-667-647-467-4412," he muttered to himself as he went to one of the antique phones sitting on a table. "Blaise, were you serious about calling _Odysseus_?"

"Not now, Harry," Blaise said, putting the phone up to his ear. "I'm on the phone."

"Miss Granger, I'm surprised at this sudden sweetness coming from you," Darius said nicely. "I'm sure Professor Leir will enjoy getting a phone call. He's not too thrilled about being Dead, especially since his buddies are trying to bring him back unsupervised."

"Idiots," Sargon grumbled in the corner, not really looking up from his book.

"I'm calling…er…Abraham Van Helsing," Malfoy joked, trying to get a rise out of the Necromancy professor and his aide. "Didn't you get it, Professor? I said—"

"I heard you," Darius snapped, grabbing Malfoy by the ear. "You little git…if you contact a Slayer in my class…you'll lose a hundred points for Slytherin and wind up with detention for the rest of the month."

"He's not bluffing," Sargon said, finally putting up the novel (which turned out to be 'The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King') he was reading, and looked at the students. "I even remember fifty years ago, Darius gave detention to a certain Tom Riddle for trying to phone Van Helsing as well." Not too many students looked scared. "Don't you all know that Tom Riddle is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" The students cowered after Sargon said that, but a smile had appeared on his face. "Darius, I'm going to bring some cheddar biscuits up here in a little bit. I'll be back shortly."

"Okay," Darius said. "Be careful, and look out for the gorgonix."

"Silence," Sargon replied, a sneer on his composed face. "Don't jinx it for me."

"Have fun," Darius and the entire class said, waving Sargon out. Once Sargon left, Darius looked at the rest of the class and said, "Alright…I want my 'E' people to come up here next."

After everyone had gone up to pick a number, the phones began to ring. "Professor Leir? Hi! This is Hermione Granger! How are you?"

"Is this Abraham Van Helsing, the famous Slayer? Hi…my name is Draco Malfoy, and I was wondering if you could get rid of this particular vampire. Ever heard of Darius Ahsimal?"

"Melampus, is that you? Yes…this is Cassandra, your little sister. No…I'm _sixteen_ now, not _six_! It's been a while, hasn't it? Look, about the Necropolis…"

"But you're a SLAYER! Surely Ahsimal won't be too hard to—"

"Malfoy, cut that out!"

"Yes, Professor Ahsimal," Malfoy said, turning back to the phone and whispering, "Do you see what I've got to put up with, Sir? A crossdressing vampire…"

Harry nervously dialed his number and suddenly, James picked up. "Hello?"

"Dad, is that you?" Harry asked. "This is Harry."

"Hello!" James replied. "How's it going up there?"

"Pretty good," Harry replied. "How's it down there?"

"Interesting," James responded. "I just got back with your mother from a concert. We went to see a Grateful Dead tribute band. Yeah, well…we're Dead-Heads."

"That sounds rather fun," Harry said. "Any new arrivals, Dad?"

"Not that I know about," James replied, "but I know Remus, Sirius, _and_ Peter are up there. Where are they?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said. "I haven't seen Sirius in quite a while, and Peter Pettigrew's been skulking about Turret Fifteen."

"What's up there?" James suddenly asked. "When I was at school, that room was off limits. So…you've apparently been. Tell me, is there anything interesting up in there?"

"Not really," Harry said. "That's the Curses & Rootwork classroom."

"They're teaching that garbage as a class?!" James sounded outraged. "That's black magic, Harry…you'd be best to stay away from trash like that."

"The professor says I've got a good aptitude for it," Harry coldly replied, "and he's a very noble fellow."

"Oh, really? Pray tell…who is this noble Cursemaster?" James sneered.

"Mortimer Skylarke," Harry answered, to hear a sigh coming from his father.

"I know that name," James said. "It's rather hard not to down here. He's a better Necromancer than Ahsimal, but never got the credit for it, since his interest lies truly in Curses. He died, but a friend who helped murder him—yeah, I know it's Snivellus—tried to Resurrect him, and botched it. Now whenever Mortimer goes to sleep, he passes to the Death Realm with us, only to return when he awakens. He's got the same fame and glory as you down here…the last of the house of Circe. I only met him once or twice while he was up at Hogwarts as a student—he was two or three years younger than me, so I paid him no heed—and I'm glad I didn't. His lot is one I'd like to stay out of."

"But he has good intentions," Harry argued.

"Did he tell you that, or did someone else?" James inquired. "Harry, I'm urging you to leave that man alone. He's not a great person to have around, and ill fortune follows his every move. You don't want to have his bad luck rub off on you…not when you're the only one who can defeat Voldemort."

"He _does_ have good intentions," Harry snapped, repeating what he'd said moments earlier. "I know he does! He's trying to legalize the majority of black magic, knowing most witches and wizards will be able to use it for the common good!"

"That's not good intentions," James responded. "That's insanity. I think your great teacher—or so you call him—might really be a madman."

"Thanks for nothing, Dad," Harry said flatly. "Tell Mum I said 'hi'." With that, he hung up.

"So…Harry…" Darius said, coming toward him. "How'd it go?"

"My dad really doesn't like Professor Skylarke," Harry replied.

"What do you mean you can't…because you're dead?!" Malfoy shouted through the phone. "Well, you're a coward, Mr. Van Helsing…a coward!" He hung up and said, "Okay, I'm going to call Sam McCallisten or Sally-Anne Perks. Professor Ahsimal, may I look up another phone number?"

"Sure," Darius said sweetly. "But no more Slayers, Malfoy; you'll be spending detention with me and have lost Slytherin a hundred points for speaking to Van Helsing."

"But—"

"I warned you," Darius coldly responded. "Now, find a safe number."

Malfoy looked through the phone book until he got to the business section, and then grinned. "Can I put this one on the loud-speaker?"

"Sure," Darius said calmly. "Why not? Everyone, be quiet for a moment…we're going to listen to what Malfoy wants to share with the class."

"Welcome to Carrion Heights," said a female voice. "This is Lizzie; how may I help you, dear caller?"

"Hi," said Malfoy. "I was wondering…are you interested in life insurance?"

"As a matter of fact, sir, I am," said Lizzie.

"Well, too bad!" Malfoy jeered, "because you're already dead!" With that, he hung up the phone. The Slytherins (save Cassandra) sniggered at that, but Darius seemed to be furious. "Something wrong, Professor?"

"I must indeed complain about that," Darius said angrily. "You should _never_ taunt the Dead like that…do you understand me?" Malfoy blanched, and squeaked in terror. "There are worse things than Dead lurking about…but very few make their presence known." Darius took off his glasses and bared his fangs. "I'm one of that particular few…and even the Dark Lord acknowledges me as such."

"Only fools provoke vampires further," Hermione said flatly. "A famous Slayer said that…but I'm not sure whether that was Thomas the Rhymer or Professor Lewn…"

"Welcome back ter Care of Magical Creatures, everyone!" Hagrid said happily. "Today, we're goin' to be doin' somethin' with a Manticore."

"Really?" said Ron, looking at that horrible creature nervously. "What _something_?"

"I'm goin' ter show yer how ter feed one, and take care of 'im," Hagrid announced.

"Brilliant," Cassandra said excitedly. "I've always been interested in Manticore."

"Yer might want to back up, Cassie-lass—"

"My name is Cassandra, Hagrid!"

"Sorry…Cassandra," Hagrid said, rolling his eyes. "Why do yer like Manticore?"

"I like them for their power, ability to instill fear even in the bravest hearts, and their overall charm," Cassandra honestly stated. "Besides, they have something in common with me…a taste for human blood."

"I don't know why Dumbledore allows creatures like vampires onto the campus…why doesn't he fire Ahsimal and Lethe?" grumbled Seamus.

"Hey…Darius Ahsimal is the only reason you're still here!" Cassandra hissed. "I thought you'd hold him in a sense of reverence for Resurrecting you intact, Finnigan!"

"That doesn't mean I like vampires," Seamus said angrily. "You're all monsters."

"Why you little—"

"Stop it, Cassie-lass—"

"Hagrid, my name is CASSANDRA!"

"Well, calm down!" Hagrid said. "Seamus here was just stating 'is opinion."

"Surely _you_ don't agree with that?" asked Cassandra.

"Nah," Hagrid said, folding his arms. "I think you guys deserve ter be here jus' as much as I do, and Ahsimal's not the bad guy people paint 'im to be."

"Thank you," Cassandra said calmly, as she went back toward the Manticore and outstretched her hand. "Hi there, you lovely creature."

"Careful!" Hagrid shouted, rushing over toward Cassandra. "He likes ter eat human flesh, and—" He stopped when he noticed the Manticore was rubbing up against Cassandra's hand and purring. "Oh, yeah…you're a vampire. You're okay with Cuddle Chublet."

"His name is Cuddle Chublet!?" Harry said, looking confused. "I don't get it. You give the dangerous creatures cute names, and give your harmless animals the tough-sounding names. I mean, Fang's just a gentle giant, and Fluffy was…well…not."

"Cuddle Chublet is a good fellow," Hagrid argued. "He's never bitten me."

"That's because you're a half giant," Malfoy said flatly. "It eats HUMAN flesh!"

"That's why you're goin' ter be wearing these leather gloves when you go up ter pet 'im," Hagrid said calmly as he passed the gloves around the class. "Manticores have the body of a tiger or lion, a deadly scorpion's tail, the face of a man, and a mane of soft, woman-like hair. Their teeth are the second sharpest in the world, vampires having the sharpest. This species is very rare now, 'cause they're often poached. Their pelts are worth lots of money. But, once yer know their weaknesses, they're not too much ter handle."

"Hi, Hagrid," said Stanzi, popping up out of nowhere, or so it seemed.

"Hello, Stanzi!" Harry said, waving. He hadn't seen much of his older friend outside the Dueling auditorium lately.

"What's today's lesson for the students?"

"Stanzi, it's Manticores," Hagrid said happily.

"Oh, goody!" Stanzi exclaimed, rushing up toward Cuddle Chublet. "He's so cute!"

Harry looked at the short-haired woman as if she'd gone insane; in his opinion, Cuddle Chublet looked like a man-eater, not something safe to pet and baby-talk to. But, he did notice that Cuddle Chublet wasn't going after Stanzi's hand as she stroked his nuzzle. "Banshee blood," he muttered to himself. "That'd explain it."

"You're such a cutie!" Stanzi cooed at the creature, "and so well-behaved!"

"Are you mad, Madame Talus?" Hermione asked Stanzi.

"No," Stanzi honestly answered.

"Then why are you petting something that might want to tear your hand off?"

"Oh, these things don't bite me," Stanzi explained. "Besides, I like Manticore."

"Hagrid," Harry said, trying to get his friend's attention while everyone else was focused directly on Stanzi baby-talking and petting Cuddle Chublet the Manticore. "I was wondering…have you heard of Skylarke's Theory?"

"Yeah," Hagrid said, "an' I think a bunch of it's true. Normal an' black magic can both be used fer good or evil…but there's one way I differ from Skylarke himself."

"Oh?"

"I do believe in black magic," Hagrid said. "There are some forms o' magic that I can't see a single way anything good could come out of it…like Absorption. Morty's got ter be a little cracked to think there's somethin' good abou' Absorption."

"I'll have to think on that one, too," Harry said, "but his theory made sense."

"I bet it appealed ter ya," Hagrid said, "knowing that you like Necromancy."

"Hagrid, can I keep your Manticore?" Stanzi asked. "I really like him!"

_Hello again, my fellow Nemesarists. Here we go with another wonderful chapter! I really do hope you all are enjoying this tale, because I've only received 39 reviews to date for my efforts. Come on you guys...please let me know how you like the story, or don't. I'm not a mind reader, I failed at Legillimency horribly, so I'll have to resort to you telling me how I'm doing. Ok?_

_Also, back to sharing links for really good stories. Please give these stories a read...they are written from a few of my friends, and I know they'd appreciate you reading their work and reviewing. First up, Surviving Without Hope, by JesusChick4Ever; In the Way, by siriuslover4eva; and A Forgotten Lifetime, also by Siriuslover4eva. These girls would love to hear from you. I'll add some other stories that I have found enjoyable to my notes next time I update._

_Take care everyone, and please review. I only have 11 more chapters to post and then this story will be complete. I would really like to know if you like it or not. Thank you._

_Sincerely, Mortimer Skylarke_


	41. Chapter 40

Chapter Forty:

The Alchemist's Child

"Harry, quite a bit has come up this week," Stanzi admitted. "I've got to take Juno to meet a fan-club, and my dad planned on meeting up with me…this has been the first time I've seen him in twelve years, you understand."

"Yes," Harry said, ready to leave the Dueling Auditorium and catch up with Ron and Hermione. "So…where do I apply in all of this?"

"I was wondering if you would mind babysitting Cecil for the evening," Stanzi stated flatly. "Please, Harry…I swear I'll pay you. Name your price, and I'll pay you for watching the little devil—I mean, my sweet little angel!"

"Constanza, are you ready to leave, my dear?" Lethe called from the end of the room. "It's about time we head over to the convention…I don't want to be keeping the music fans waiting, lest they convert to Lancerie."

"Watch it," Stanzi warned. "I like Lancerie."

"Oh no," Lethe said, laughing. "Too late!"

"Harry, I promise to pay you for this," Stanzi said nicely. "Just name your price when we get back!"

"But where's Cecil?" Harry asked.

"Last time I checked, he was bothering Aurelius Fallowin," Lethe admitted. "I bet he's still there, since he wants to become an Exorcist."

"Alright, Professors," Harry said. "Enjoy your trip to…where are you going?"

"Dublin," said Lethe.

"Then enjoy going to Dublin," Harry replied, and then walked out, determined to find Cecil. After walking down several corridors, he ran across Remus in the Councilor's Hall; Sirius down Turret Row, pawing at Turret Seven; and Wormtail while walking past the Great Hall…but he had no time to be talkative; he had to find Cecil. That boy was his responsibility until his parents—strange as they may be—returned.

"Cecil?" he called.

"Yes?" asked a Fourth Year Hufflepuff. "What do you need me for?"

"No, not you, sorry," Harry said, walking past the Hufflepuff and finally spotting the boy talking to Aurelius outside. "Oh, there you are!"

"I've been here for quite a while," Cecil stated. "What do you want with me now?" Before Harry could speak, the kid cut him off. "Let me guess…Mum and Dad put you up to sitting me?"

"Yes," Harry said flatly. When he saw the look on Cecil's face, he sighed. "Look, I'm not too thrilled about that idea, either."

"Do you take Professor Fallowin's class?" asked Cecil. "He's a cool guy."

"Thanks," Aurelius said, "and yes, Harry does take my Exorcism class. He's doing alright in there, too."

"I'm looking forward to the trip," Harry admitted to Aurelius.

"I'm glad," Aurelius said merrily. "The overnight trip is going to be very educational, but also a great chance to hang out with friends and make some more."

"So…" Cecil said, tapping his foot. "Something tells me I can't go."

"Right you are!" Aurelius said, pointing at the boy. "Once you start taking my Exorcism class, you'll be more than welcome to attend."

"But I got to go to Hogsmeade with the Dueling Club—"

"Cecil, has the thought that your Mum is in charge of that club ever run across your mind for the cause of letting you go?" Harry pointed out. "That's why you got to go."

Aurelius sighed and said, "I'm sorry, kid, but I've got a meeting to attend…_now_. Harry, good luck babysitting this kid. He's a monster."

Harry then left for the Great Hall, Cecil trailing behind him. Dinner was nice that evening, and the American students were Dueling each other for a bit of entertainment.

"Dinner and Show," Hermione muttered. "Aarel and Serena especially…all show."

"They're pretty good," Cecil and Harry stated.

"Hold on," Ron said, looking at the newcomer. "Kid, when'd you get here?"

"I followed Harry," Cecil answered. "Harry's supposedly babysitting me."

"How much are they paying you, Harry?" asked Ron, staring at Cecil (who was staring right back at him in the same way, just to be annoying).

"I get to name my price when they get back from Dublin," Harry said. "Cecil, you might want to cut that out…staring is rude."

"Yeah, well…so is calling a professor a 'git'," Cecil snapped. "Even if it's Snape." He said this very loudly in the Great Hall during dinner time, causing a special someone to come along and scowl at the table. "Why, hello, Professor Snape!"

"Potter, I couldn't help but overhear Quirrell saying you referred to me as a git," Snape said, his eyes glaring at Harry angrily. "Is this true?"

"No, sir," Harry answered, being honest this time.

"Lies, sir!" Cecil argued, pointing and acting a little demented. "ALL LIES!"

"I'm going to be taking the boy's word over yours, Potter," Snape said calmly, "because I know I've proven you to be a liar before. Detention for the rest of the week."

"Yeah," Malfoy said, tagging along. "Have fun."

"Could I request to have Harry for Detention?" Darius asked. "I'm his Hawkbane sponsor…perhaps, Severus, it would be appropriate."

"Darius, stay out of this one," Snape replied. "You and I might be friends, but I want to give Potter his due punishment."

"You're not a git, Professor Snape," Cecil said in a sugar-sweet voice.

"Shut up," Snape said, stomping off.

"Why'd you do that?!" Hermione hissed at the boy.

"All in fun," Cecil replied. "You can't blame me for wanting to spice things up."

"Yes, we can," Ron snapped. "You got Harry in trouble."

"Not for anything he hasn't done and gotten away with before," Cecil said, grinning.

"You little brat!" Hermione looked absolutely appalled at the child's behavior. She went up to Harry and whispered in his ear, "That does it; I don't think he's cute anymore."

Cecil then interrupted the Americans' dueling skit and began to sing a rather mean-spirited little ditty:

_Hate me, love me_

_I don't care…_

_You're pathetic_

_Here and there…_

_Stay here, listen_

_To my voice_

_Mindless puppets_

_Have no choice…_

_Mom's not here to_

_Stop me now_

_Nor is Dad_

_He don't know how…_

_I'm annoying_

_So you say_

_Guaranteed to_

_Spoil your day…_

_Watch me now,_

_I'll break the glass_

_Stupid people…_

_Kiss my ass!_

He surprisingly had a good voice, like Juno Lethe, yet there was something a little strange about it; it was something neither Harry nor his friends could detect at first. However, the professors just stared at the child, shocked. In the middle of his first verse, the room began to shake just a little bit…and then the windows shattered. "Oops," Cecil said, looking at the mess he'd created. "I—"

"Cecil Quirrell!" Remus said, walking up to him. "I can't believe you…you knew what would happen if you sang a little bit, and you did it anyway! What's gotten into you?"

"I'm just trying to get a little attention," Cecil said flatly. "Juno's been spending a lot of time with my Mum lately, and neither one seems to want to be with me."

"I wonder why," Harry, Ron, and Hermione said sarcastically.

"They love me," Cecil snarled at them. "They really do! But they're so happy about Mum having a new baby that I'm being pushed out of the spotlight!"

"WHAT?!" the Gryffindors and Remus shouted together.

"That's not possible," Remus said, looking confused. "Your mother isn't seeing anyone else besides Juno Lethe. How can she be pregnant?"

"Uh…" Cecil said, trying to think up a good lie. "I have no idea…"

"You sure as bloody Hell know what's going on," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "Your Mum has to have a boyfriend—"

"NO!' Cecil shouted angrily. "SHE'D NEVER DO THAT TO MY DAD!"

"I don't know," Ron said, trying to get Cecil to confess. "She does have the hots for Cassandra's uncle Lawrence. You know, Lawrence _Von Dorian_!"

"SHUT UP!" Cecil spat. "Mum's not like that!"

"Well, your father's been dead for half a decade now—"

"Professor Lupin, he isn't dead anymore," Cecil confessed.

"So your mother and Juno are hiding your father?" Remus inquired.

"No," Cecil answered. "Leave me alone."

"Is your mum seeing anyone besides Juno?" Remus kept going.

"No," Cecil answered yet again. "Now, I'd really like to leave and—"

"We're back!" Stanzi and Lethe shouted, coming through the doors.

"What food did we miss this time?" asked Lethe. "I'm a bit hungry from my trip."

"Cecil, sweetheart," Stanzi said, bending down a little. "Are you okay?" Cecil looked like he wanted to hurt someone.

"No," Cecil admitted. "And, Mum? Harry's right over there."

"Harry, how can I thank you enough for watching over Cecil?" asked Stanzi. "How much do you want for looking over my son?"

"He wasn't that bad," Harry lied. "But he let it slip that you're pregnant." Stanzi looked as if someone had just told her that her favorite pet had died. "Is it true?"

"Yes," Stanzi said. "So what?"

"That's just weird," Remus said, walking off.

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Harry had Foreign Magic first thing in the morning. Ebonyste was already in the classroom. His clothes were neater, so he had obviously been wide awake when he had gotten ready. On some days, it may have been easier to pass in sloppy work. These were the mornings when Ebonyste hadn't quite woken up yet, or when he had a hangover. Today, it was obvious that he would be alert, and that meant Ron and Harry _both_ would be in serious trouble.

"We're going to start our unit on New Orleans today, with Marie Laveau and the Foreign Magic known as voodoo in Haiti!" Ebonyste sounded happy. "Okay, everyone…we'll begin once homework is collected."

Almost eighty percent of the class passed their work up. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle handed Ebonyste homework passes…how they got them, however, was a mystery. "Ah, very good…" He now looked rather pissed off. "Weasley! Potter! Where are your essays?"

"Hedwig ate it," Harry said sarcastically.

"I left it in my dorm," Ron lied.

Ebonyste ignored their excuses. "You two willhave detention with me. I'll make sure you do your homework next time by the time I'm through with you." He smiled, and his long, pointy ears were perked up like a happy dog.

"Professor, were you serious when you said you dated a werewolf in college?" asked Lisa.

"No," Ebonyste said. "I was joking earlier with you. I never would have dated a chick like that! Now, back to Potter and Weasley…"

Serena came in two minutes late. Her essay was in her hand. "Sir, I have an excused tardy from Professor Sprout." She looked at everyone and blinked. "Oh dear. What did I miss this time?"

"Oh, nothing much, Voltaire," the teacher yawned. "Oh, but I just gave Ron and Harry Double Secret Special Friend Treatment Duty."

Harry groaned in agony. "No, please, Professor Ebonyste. I'm begging you…not _that_ again! _Anything_ but Double Secret Special Friend Treatment!"

"What's Double Secret Special Friend Treatment?" asked Ron.

"It's when I get you to do my dirty deeds. You have to be a 'Special Friend' and do stuff for teachers and to teachers as I request. If you do, I'll make sure your grade in here gets a bit better." Ebonyste's ears were twitching. "I always have fun with this."

"I know you do," snapped Harry.

Serena beamed as she gave Ebonyste her essay. Suddenly, the teacher burst into laughter. "You get Double Secret Special Friend Treatment as well, Miss Voltaire!"

"_Huh_?! _What_ did you say, Professor Ebonyste?"

Ebonyste shrugged his shoulders. "You copied Josh Goldman's essay from last year!"

"No way! I didn't—"

"WORD FOR WORD, VOLTAIRE! YOU EVEN HAVE THE SAME SPELLING MISTAKES!" Serena looked miserable as she took her seat. "Cool! This reminds me of the radio talk show called Stupid Criminals! Plagiarism is illegal and frowned upon, eh? Wait a minute; you _didn't_ copy it word-for-word. You replaced Josh's name with yours, so it is now _officially_ illegal. Now all three of you have to deal with Double Secret Special Friend Treatment! If you're caught, you face the consequences and are _still_ devoted to your duties. Don't get caught!"

"If you get caught, you can't say you're on Double Secret Special Friend Treatment. You get full punishment," said Lisa. "I know because I've had to do it too."

"I have created a legend!" Ebonyste said with glee. He turned to the class. "Everyone in this room is sworn to secrecy before I give my current victims their first assignment!" He muttered something and waved his wand. "Now, you are incapable of even _hinting_ about this program to anyone else. Harry, you've had this before, so you know how things go. You, Ron, and Serena will have a fun mission. You're to come to my classroom immediately after supper. We're doing a little Herbology."

Ron and Serena raised eyebrows. "Are we going to do something to Sprout?"

"What is my role in this?" Harry asked dejectedly.

Ebonyste chuckled evilly. "Oh, we shall see! We _shall_ see soon enough!"

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That night, the three students warily stepped into the classroom where Ebonyste was sitting on his desk. "Earlier this week, Sprout called me a pointy-eared nightmare—no doubt she overheard Marcus Cantarus call me that after my first day back!—and I'm going to get you nincompoops to help carry out my revenge. Understand?"

"Professor Sprout is the Head of Hufflepuff House!" squeaked Serena. "I…I…"

"Don't want to fail Foreign Magic," Ebonyste said threateningly.

"We're here to help," said Harry. "Ron, this is going to be fun. Trust me."

"I guess we're all in, then," said Serena.

"Brilliant!" Ebonyste grinned. "This really should be oodles of fun. Who knows, it may help you on other grades as well! What we are going to do is not really _Herbology_. In fact, we've got to find old Sprouty herself. It won't be hard to find her, because I already know where her living quarters are."

Once Ebonyste, Ron, Harry, and Serena had gotten to the door, Ebonyste spoke up again. "Harry, I want you to quietly open the door and be ready to knock her out if she wakes up. Serena, run in there and get her hat. Hand it to me. I'll put a curse on it to make it bite. Ron, put this cloth in the mouth and run it inside. Put it in and take the cloth out. I'll put a _temporary_ sleep spell on it. Got it?"

"Yes!" all three whispered. "We're ready to go!"

Ron took the cloth and did as Ebonyste told him to. Harry kept a close watch over Sprout to make sure she didn't suddenly wake up. "I got the hat," said Serena, still having second thoughts.

Ebonyste muttered something over the hat and quickly handed it to Ron. Knowing what he had to do, Ron stuffed the cloth in its new mouth, and ran inside to place it back on Sprout's dresser. He jerked the cloth out as Ebonyste waved his wand. The hat seemed to be nothing more than the typical witch's hat, but the conspirators knew better. Everyone left, and Ebonyste treated them all to a butterbeer from his private stash. "Double Secret Special Friend Treatment isn't all that bad," Ron admitted to Harry as they walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Thankfully, Herbology was the first class of the day. About halfway through the lesson, the hat woke up. "Now, the Venus fly trap is perfect for—OW!" Sprout started running around in circles. "Get it off me! It's eating my head!" She kept screaming until Neville managed to take the hungry hat off her head. He dropped it when it bit him and started to make its way around the classroom, biting the ankles of anyone that crossed its path. Some of the students grabbed pots to throw at it, and others tried to poke it further away with brooms. The hat must have had a mind of its own, because it was being provoked. Other people climbed upon the tables and stood in chairs. The hat was running amok.

"_Imobulus_!" Hermione shouted.

The hat fell off of Malfoy's mangled left hand. Ron picked it up and showed it to the blond Slytherin boy. "Whoa," Malfoy said, laughing. "It really _does_ have teeth!" He was obviously in pain, but overwhelmingly amused by the incident. "Does this mean I can skip Transfiguration and Phobomancy to go see Madame Pomfrey?"

"No; she's out this week on vacation," said Sprout. "You can see our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, however. Hagrid will see you, and I'm sure he'd be glad to repair that bloody mess for you."

"No thanks, Professor," said Malfoy casually. "I just wanted a way out of class."

"It would have worked until you said that," Sprout admitted. "Your hand is bleeding."

"Get that mess out of my sight, Malfoy," Cassandra warned, trying her best not to look at the gory mess. "If you keep that within my viewing range, I swear…I'll bite what's left of your hand clean off your arm. You're making me hungry."

"And you, my dear, are making me sick," Malfoy retorted, covering up his hand…clearly in pain. "You vampires are as nasty as they come because—"

"Malfoy, that is quite enough!" Sprout warned.

"Yes, Professor," Malfoy grumbled, sitting back down. "You don't like them, though, do you?"

"I could care less whether a good student is a vampire or not," Sprout admitted. "While Miss Snape might not be my best student, she is an exceptionally bright young lady, and I feel she has a lot of potential."

"Thanks," Cassandra said, blinking in surprise.

"I think we all knew that," Harry added.

"Now, about my hat…" Sprout began. "Whose crackpot idea was it to make it eat me?"

"I'm counting down the days before we have our PreN.E.W.T.s," Hermione admitted. "I think the tests are going to be easier than the O.W.L.s were!"

"Of course," Harry said. "We're a year older."

"You can be exempted from some of them, you know," Cassandra added. "I'm being exempted from Herbology because I did so well."

"I was offered a chance to exempt my Foreign Magic exam," Hermione replied, "but I told Professor Ebonyste I still wanted to take his final test." She giggled and said, "He's a funny fellow…I love that class."

"You're nutters!" Marcus shouted, walking by. "Ebonyste is a freak of nature!"

"And I'm not, by your standard?" Cassandra retorted.

"No," Marcus said. "I'm through with that Slayer crap. I quit right after Mum and Dad died…it doesn't seem so honorable anymore. Now, actually, I kind of like vampires. You're not a freak, Cassandra."

Harry turned around to see Cassandra was looking at Marcus as if he'd gone insane. The expression was enough to get him to laugh, which caused Ron to laugh, which in turn made the same happen to Hermione. Soon, Marcus and Cassandra joined in. "That was brilliant," said Ron. "Great job, Marcus."

"We're so proud of you for giving up Slaying," Hermione said happily. "You're a great guy deep down."

"Don't have a problem with Muggle-born classmates, now do you?" Harry pondered.

"No…actually, I could care less," Marcus said, laughing. "Hermione, you're alright with me."

After getting the entire group into smiles, Marcus decided to announce, "Well…I've got to talk to Sprout about that hat; you see, I like her detentions, so I decided to take the blame for whoever really did it."

"You're brave," Cassandra said, still laughing a bit. "A tad foolish, yes…gullible, no doubt about it…but brave nonetheless."

"And I have never had a student better at Alchemy than Cantarus," said Lethe, walking down the hall. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. As you probably already know, you've got to head over to the Phobomancy classroom right about now." She blinked, and then waved her arms about. "Go!"

"Don't worry," said Harry as everyone else started walking off toward Fenrir's classroom. "We will. But there is something I'd like to know before I leave."

"Name it," Lethe replied flatly.

"Is Stanzi pregnant?"

Lethe looked very happy at that news. "Oh, yes. I couldn't be happier, either. I just hope it's a girl this time…"

"You might want to pretend to be angry with her out in public," Harry said. "What are people going to think when they see her? Isn't it going to look a bit weird seeing two women as a couple, and one of them gets pregnant? Are you ready to blow your cover?"

"No," Lethe flatly said, "and you're right…as a return favor on my part, how about I tell you something you probably would like to know?"

"Go on," Harry said, checking his wristwatch to see that he still had plenty of time to go through the Labyrinth to Phobomancy. "Is this about you?"

"Only a little bit," admitted Lethe. "Look, Harry…I saw the ghost of an old professor of mine walking about Hogwarts, and he was one of the teachers I actually liked. I chased after him, trying to get his attention. You see, I desperately wanted to speak with Sebastian Argentum, to find out what had happened to him. All I recall was that another teacher was thrown in Azkaban for his murder, and turned out to be a scapegoat and nothing more. But, anyway…I chased him, and I found myself in that long corridor of statues. I now know where the gorgonix has been hiding."

"In the Labyrinth?" asked Harry.

"Yes," Lethe said. "I know you're just about to go there for your next class…but be on the lookout. That's where it stays…besides the place where you and I had our little showdown five years ago. There's a trapdoor in there leading to the Labyrinth."

"So…you tried to kill me when I was a First Year…and now you're trying to save me from something else killing me?" Harry looked confused. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"About as much of a joke as Ebonyste's threat of getting rid of Sargon Von Dorian," Lethe said, "and didn't you hear about that this morning? Darius just had to use his final spare Resurrection for Sargon. Next time…he can't bring back his precious partner."

"Thank you for the information," Harry said, now realizing that he'd have to run down the halls to make it to Fenrir's class if he wanted some time to spare for getting lost in the Labyrinth. "I'll see you later, then."

"Ciao," Lethe said nervously. "Remember what Mad-Eye Moody always said…Constant Vigilance!"

"Welcome back, little cowards," Fenrir began. "I remember how all of you left this class right around the beginning…and you all continue to do so, save for Miss Cassandra Snape. She has stayed here even after school to learn the secrets of the wonderful art I teach. Now, I know most of you are more than ready to get up and try to leave this classroom." He pointed at the doors and said, "You can try…but you'll have detention and a little burn on your hands if you do so much as touch those doors before the end-of-class bell rings."

"Oh no," Ron whispered to Harry. "That means--"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Fenrir cut Ron off to say, "you're stuck here." Everyone in the room (except Cassandra, who looked quite amused) appeared to be very upset by this news. Escape from Phobomancy was always a good thing…especially because Fenrir was a rather horrid fellow at times. "Today, I'm going to show you a little Absorption. I trust that you covered that in Curses & Rootwork recently?"

"We did, Professor Fenrir," Hermione said sadly. "You and Skylarke both scare me quite often."

"Well, it's my job to scare you," Fenrir replied. "If I wasn't inculcating your fears, then I'd have failed in my Phobomancer's duties." He wrote some rather disturbing notes on the board about Absorption, and how very few people could master it, yet it was very easy for Dementors to do.

"Don't worry," Fenrir calmly said. "What you're about to be faced with is nothing but a figment of your imagination; it doesn't exist anywhere else. However, you should try to block me, although I'm being fictitious. I'll be absorbing your happiness, but you'll think I'm doing it for another reason. Try to stop me, okay?"

"What's the spell to stop you?" asked Hermione.

"This is like Dueling, Miss Granger," Fenrir replied. "You're going to have to think fast. I'll write out the four Preventions, and let's see if any of you can stay in here without trying to leave the room."

"We were going to do that, anyway," Malfoy admitted. "Dementor or not, Professor."

"Your Patronus Charm will probably be the only one that'll work if you're truly afraid. The others, you have to be in a fearless state of mind. _Expecto Patronum_, _Levius Alonus_, _Dispersium_, and _Guardius_ are the four Prevention incantations you'll have to memorize." Fenrir pulled out his wand and said, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as we're ever going to be, Professor," said Harry. He was ready for this class to end and be over…and he wished he could've been exempted from this particular exam. While Snape could be horrid in temperament, so could Fenrir…and Phobomancy was a lot more ill-intended than Potions.

"_ILLUDIUM_!" Fenrir shouted. Suddenly, Fenrir's teacher's robes had been replaced with the attire of a Death Eater (minus the mask), and suddenly, the door appeared to open. "Ah…how wonderful," Fenrir said in a venomous tone. "I'm going to take a memory, alter it, and then play it in front of my captive audience…brilliant idea, no?"

"No," said Malfoy. "Professor Skylarke, hi!" he said, waving to who had just come in.

"Skylarke's not here," Fenrir retorted. "This is the illusion I'll be using…but watch; your mind will be thinking differently in just a moment—"

"What did you mean by taking a memory and altering it?" asked Hermione.

"Watch, and observe…and listen," Fenrir stated, tapping his wand about.

The apparition of Morty flinched and doubled over in pain. His glasses slipped off his face, and a black eye began to form on his left side. "Lycaon, please, no…don't do this," he pleaded.

"_Crucio!_" Fenrir snarled, knocking Morty back several steps. "Fight back, coward!"

"I can't," Morty responded, still writhing like a dying animal. "You have the power."

"That's right," Fenrir replied, laughing evilly. "Who's the master now, eh?"

"DAMN IT, LYCAON! STOP IT!" Morty yowled in a voice that made it seem like he was dying in agony. "I…can't…take this…much…longer…"

"_Asphyxia_!" Fenrir shouted, laughing like a madman. Morty clutched at his neck and began to make choking sounds. Soon, his face was turning pink…to red…to purple…

"STOP IT! PLEASE, PROFESSOR FENRIR!" Hermione shouted. "YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!"

"That's the point," Fenrir said coldly.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" Harry shouted. "HE'S YOUR FRIEND! ISN'T HE?"

"Yes," Fenrir calmly stated. "But I'm having too much fun to—"

"_Levius Alonus_!" Cassandra shouted, raising her wand up into the air. No trace of fear was on her face, but the green fire was in her eyes again. With that, Morty disappeared.

"Great work, Miss Snape," Fenrir crowed. "Twenty points to Slytherin for using a Prevention Charm. You really have a high aptitude for this class, my dear, and I hope you decide to take the next course offered next year."

"Oh, I shall," Cassandra responded. "This is one of the few classes I actually like."

"You're horrible," Malfoy said, pointing a finger at Cassandra. "How'd you get so good at Phobomancy?"

"Easy," Cassandra replied, grinning. "I just sit in class and pay attention."

"I do that too!" Malfoy argued.

"But you wet your pants almost every time you come in here," Fenrir pointed out.

Harry and the other Gryffindors were about to die laughing at that comment. None of them liked Malfoy, and seeing him in any discomfort was something they all wanted to see. "Great job, Cassandra," Harry said. "I forgot that Fenrir was creating nothing more than an illusion to absorb good airs from us…I honestly thought he'd gone nutters."

"Oh, come now!" Cassandra said, laughing along with Harry. "You didn't honestly think Fenrir would kill the man who saved his life once, did you?"

"Well—"

"I'm pretty sure not even Voldemort himself would do something that low," Cassandra cut Harry short. "Whether he wants to or not, Fenrir can't kill Skylarke. It's part of the Creed as a," she whispered in Harry's ear, "Nemesarist."

"Next time, I'm bringing a real Dementor in here to see how all of you fare against it," Fenrir warned and announced simultaneously. "Your homework is to write an essay about Dementors and why they are so good at Absorption. That's all for today; class is dismissed."

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"Welcome back to Exorcism!" Aurelius said happily. "Now, does everyone have any questions about what we've been covering for the past few months in here? I'd like to have everyone know quite a bit about how to vanquish evil souls and some of the History of Exorcism before we head out to Hogsmeade for our weekend-long field trip."

"Do you have to be Catholic for it to work?" asked Hermione.

"No," Aurelius said. "I'm not Catholic, and just look at me and how I turned out!"

"Yeah," Malfoy said, "I'm not impressed."

"This should be fun," Aurelius said, smirking a bit like Fenrir. "Malfoy, you're going to be my volunteer for my demonstration. Just sit there and continue to be the little nuisance you always are; I don't care what the bloody hell you're doing right now." Malfoy paid Aurelius no heed as the professor started focusing his attention directly on him…until the professor fainted.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Hermione, looking at Aurelius sadly. "I think he's tired."

"He was just fine a moment ago," Harry stated the obvious. "I think he's—"

"Everyone!" Aurelius's voice came out of Malfoy's mouth. "Look at Malfoy!"

Afraid of what was going on, Malfoy covered his own mouth. "What's going on?"

"I am possessing you, Draco; that's what's going on," Aurelius cheekily replied.

"You can do that?" asked Cassandra, seemingly amazed. "I didn't know!"

"You don't have to know everything, you know," Aurelius jeered. At that moment, his own body woke back up, and his voice came out of his own mouth. "Only one in ten thousand have this ability to Possess. I doubt any of you in this classroom have the ability, but if anyone does, good for you. There's a slim chance you'll ever get to use that ability, since what I did was not exactly Ministry of Magic approved. You all know the ways to evict a Possessor, though…that's what you'll need to remember once we leave the school."

"Is it time to go yet?" asked Cassandra. "I can't wait to meet this Father Townsend fellow you were telling us about."

Harry was more than ready to leave Hogwarts for the field trip. Everyone would be staying at The Wit's End and was allowed to walk about uptown Hogsmeade to see what all was there, including the Dueling Arena. Going over to the house of a possessed person was only the reason for getting to go.

"Yeah, it's time," Aurelius said, checking his watch. "Professors Lupin and Snape are to meet us at The Wit's End. If someone has to go back to Hogwarts for one reason or another, he or she shall not be escorted back. If you think you'll get sick there, I suggest you miss the trip."

However, none of the students thought they'd get sick, and all expressed their wishes to leave the school for the nearby Wizarding city. "I know we're going for a serious reason," Aurelius said, "but try to have fun while there, okay?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought…he was excused from all his weekend homework and Hawkbane meeting just because he was heading off to Hogsmeade. Having Aurelius tell him to have fun didn't really matter; he was going to enjoy himself anyway. Once he and everyone else left the Turret, and began to leave the school campus, a black dog followed him behind faithfully. Making sure that as few people as possible saw Sirius, Harry went to the back of the group. "There's no problem with you coming along," Harry whispered. "Just don't get caught."

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_Hello again my fellow Nemesarists!! Here's another chapter in this continuing saga. I really hope that you all are enjoying this tale. Only 9 more chapters to go until the end! _

_Please read and review. Especially the review part! I honestly want to know what you all think about this story. You don't even have to sign in to review...just review!! _

_A special thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and a most sincere apology that I'm unable to email you personally at this moment. Please direct any questions and concerns to my friend and beta, Nita. You all know her as NitaPotter here on this site._

_Until next chapter, take care everyone, and God bless you. Professor M. Skylarke_


	42. Chapter 41

Chapter Forty-One:

Not-Quite Divine Intervention

The walk to Hogsmeade was nowhere near as bad as anyone had thought. It was dry outside, and sunny. Also, it was still afternoon, so everyone had a bit of time to walk around and buy things.

"Hawkbane sponsored students may roam around up until one in the morning if they so desire," Aurelius said, "but the rest of you are to be settled into your tavern rooms by ten o' clock."

"If we find you out of bed," Remus stated, "we will not hesitate to take points away from your House or give you detention upon arrival back at the school."

"And, there is a brief note from Professor Ahsimal," Snape added. "All Afterlight students are to report to St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery at one in the morning. Those three students are excused from curfew, whoever they may be."

"Lucky," Ron whispered to Harry. "You haven't got a curfew."

"I had no idea Ahsimal was going to do that," Harry admitted, "honest."

"What do you do in Afterlight?" asked Ron. "Is it more Necromancy?"

"It's like taking Necromancy II with one-on-one help," Harry said. "Darius wants me and the other two in that class to be so ahead that we can start taking Necromancy III next year."

"You're getting credit for Afterlight, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "At least, that's what Darius had mentioned."

"Welcome to The Wit's End, Mr. Fallowin," said a middle-aged woman who looked like she was slightly drugged on caffeine. "It's a pleasure to have your business for your class trip."

"Yeah, thanks," Aurelius replied politely, checking his watch. He handed the woman a large bag of money and said, "Here you are; for all the rooms—"

"Out of your own pocket?" asked the woman.

"That's this month's compensation check from the Ministry of Magic," Aurelius responded.

"Did you know that students don't have to pay for rooms during the course of the school year?" asked the woman. "And the professors with tenure get rooms for free all year round."

"Brilliant," Snape said. "I have tenure, but did you know The Black Annis also offers free meals along with that package? Besides, they have better service."

"Yeah, if the people there don't freak you out!" the woman snapped. "I mean, honestly, sir…a werewolf runs the store." She then noticed Remus. "Oh, I er…didn't see you there, sir…"

"That's alright," Remus said, looking a bit annoyed, but not saying anything about it.

"Here are the keys for your rooms, students," said the woman. "The lobby is where we are now, and if you need anything, feel free to ask for me, Evelyn Nezura." She waved, and then hopped out of sight to go greet the next pair of visitors. "Why HELLO!"

"She seemed just a tad off her rocker," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Related to Mitzi, though," Harry noticed. "Look alike, don't they?"

"Almost," Hermione said. "I think they might be cousins."

"I've had enough of hanging around here and doing nothing," Harry admitted. "Ron, Hermione, why don't you and I walk around a bit?"

"Sure," said Ron. "Er…where are we going?"

"Why don't we pay Cassandra's family a visit?" asked Harry.

"You mean Miss Von Dorian and Teiresias?" Hermione inquired. "Harry, Lydia's a Death Eater…and from what I've heard, she's dating another one. It might be best to stay away."

"But, I've got to go there," Harry said. "It's not exactly legal to enter St. Clytemnestra's without a pass granted by The Lair. Besides, Lydia's a nice woman."

"Pets are allowed here, by the way," Evelyn Nezura shouted to Harry. "Your dog can stay in your room!"

"_Dog?!_" Ron and Hermione both announced at the same time. "Sirius came _with_ you?!"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "Sirius came along."

"I don't think Lydia would stand a chance against Sirius if she tried to attack you," Ron said, "so I guess we could go to The Lair, if you still want to."

"Believe me," Harry said, not quite sure why, "I really would like to visit there."

"I'm coming, too." Cassandra appeared out of nowhere with Rhianna, Blaise, and Aarel.

"Let me guess," Hermione said, looking at the three Slytherins with Cassandra. "They're coming, too?" Rhianna nodded her head. "Oh, alright…that's not so bad."

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It was a long walk to downtown Hogsmeade, but a walk Harry didn't mind making. The Lair looked rather beautiful this spring, with living flowers coming through the dead ones to announce that not everything lovely had perished. In the daylight, the house didn't look anywhere near as eerie as it did at night…in fact, it looked a bit more welcoming.

"Hi," said Teiresias, opening the door. "It's been a while since I last saw you guys. How are you?"

"Oh, we're fine," said Ron. "Just fine."

"I see one of you brought your dog with you," Teiresias pointed out. "Looks a bit like the Grim, doesn't he?"

"Curious," said Hermione, trying not to let on with anything.

"What's his name?" Teiresias asked, bending down to pet Sirius. Sirius growled a bit, so the boy backed off and his hand retreated.

"Snuffles," Harry said quickly. "I found him in Hogsmeade a couple of years ago."

"You guys and Snuffles can come in," Teiresias said. "I'd like a dog, but Mum's allergic. I'm surprised that cats don't give her the sniffs." Sirius continued to stare at Teiresias, as if he'd seen a ghost or something just as unappealing. Suddenly, more people arrived at the door.

"CASSANDRA!" Teiresias shouted with delight. He ran over toward his sister and embraced her.

"You actually like your older sister, Teiresias?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I do," Teiresias replied. "She's one of the bravest, smartest, and nicest people I know." He smiled and hugged his sister again.

"I can tell you're glad to see me," Cassandra said, "but is Mum just as happy?"

"What happened to calling her by her first name?" Ron asked. "I haven't heard you do that since Halloween."

"I gave up on it," Cassandra said calmly, "because it just didn't seem like instinct."

"Sweetheart!" Lydia exclaimed, running out the door. "It's been about a month since we've seen you. How _are _you?!"

"Alright," Cassandra replied, "you?"

Lydia answered with a quick 'meh', and then focused her attention toward, "Harry." She looked at him and then added, "I got a copy of the school Hogsmeade schedule; you don't have another weekend until next week. So…what are all of you doing here?" A smile was on her face. "Did you sneak out just to visit me?"

"Lydia," said a rather suave-sounding voice from indoors. "Is that your daughter out there?"

"Yes, Ahab," Lydia said in a very sweet tone, "and she brought her friends."

"Your house, your rules," Ahab replied. "Go ahead and invite them in, if you want. I really don't care…just let me have a look at my future stepdaughter." He walked through the doorway, and Harry finally got a good glance at Lydia's boyfriend. Ahab Nott was an average-sized guy with an average build; his hair was a plain mousy brown, and his eyes were just as plain to look at. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the fellow.

"Never mind," he said as he started walking over to Harry. "You didn't tell me that Cassandra was friends with Harry Potter."

"I thought that was unimportant," Lydia defended.

"Unimportant?" Ahab repeated, looking a bit surprised. "How could that be unimportant, Lydia? I mean, of all people…your daughter befriended The Boy Who Lived!"

"I actually like Harry, thank you very much," Lydia really began to sound defensive. "Ahab, if you do so much as _touch_ him, I swear I'm going to attack you."

"Such a little fireball, aren't you?" Ahab sneered. "But orders are orders, and I must—"

Lydia gave the man a heavy kick and then snarled, "Get out."

"But, angel-face—"

"You heard me…get off my property in ten seconds or I'm calling the Aurors," Lydia spat. Ahab Nott did as told and left without looking back. "I can't believe I thought he was a nice guy," she grumbled. "I really should start searching elsewhere for a soul mate. Sure, Ahab was nice…" she looked directly at Harry, "but I swore to protect you as soon as your mother asked me to. You're a lot like my eldest child."

"Cassandra?" Harry asked. "Isn't Cassandra your eldest? I don't think we're alike."

"I meant my child before Cassandra," Lydia said. "I had Melampus while I was still attending University with Claudius. He was four years older than Cassandra…my son would be twenty now."

"Something tells me he died," Ron said.

"Oh, he did," Cassandra answered for Ron. "Mum ate him."

Lydia looked down and said, "Around the time he was ten, my lamia instincts were at their peak…I couldn't help it…and after I saw what I had done to my own flesh and blood, I vowed to never hurt another younger person I swore to protect and hold close to my heart. Harry, if Melampus were still around, something tells me that you would be a lot like him."

"So one of the reasons you protect me is because I remind you of a son you killed?" Harry asked…Lydia nodded. "That's horrible."

"I know," Lydia said. "I think about him a lot, but I did vow to never do that to Cassandra or Teiresias…and if I do, I'll be going down with them." She looked at her watch and said, "You are all here with Aurelius for your Exorcism class, right?"

"That's right," said Cassandra. "Mum, we can stay until one in the morning if we like."

"Not Blaise and me," said Aarel. "How's it going, Ms. Von Dorian?"

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The visit with Lydia was nowhere near as fun as it had been back in winter, but Harry still wanted to go back at some point. Sure, there really was a lot wrong with that woman, but Harry really liked her. Everyone had dinner at The Wit's End's downstairs restaurant, and almost everybody had gone up to their rooms before curfew. It was just one of those groggy afternoons. However, Harry had to meet up with Darius in the cemetery late at night, tired, to have a brief Afterlight lesson with Blaise and Cassandra.

"Hi," Darius said, grinning.

"Hey," said Blaise, clearly about to fall asleep.

"Oh, you're not tired, are you?" Darius asked. "We've got something important to discuss in here that I forgot to tell you guys…and I can't avoid as a topic." When he had caught everyone's attention he finished to explain what it was, "You know…the stages of decomposition."

"Lovely subject, Death," Harry joked. "It's nice to know that I'm spending perhaps the best field trip this year—save the end of the year trip that you promised to take the Hawkbane sponsored-students on—out here in this silent piece of earth."

"It's far from silent," Cassandra said, looking up at the crisp, clear sky. "Can't you hear the sounds?" Harry listened closely, but the only sound he could hear was his own breathing. He shook his head. "Oh, come _on_! Don't tell me you _can't_ hear all the whisperings of days long past? The Dead are speaking to us at this very moment, and—"

"You possess a rare gift, Cassandra," Darius said, "like I do. If anyone else at Hogwarts has that same ability, I'm guessing that Harry or Blaise—perhaps both, since they are in Afterlight—have it as well. I know your Curses & Rootwork teacher does, because he's the best student I've had for over three centuries. But speaking about the Audient Necromancers is not what our subject tonight is…it's decomposition. I'm going to have to show you how to determine the stage of rot on your subject's body. There are three decomp-stages, and there's a post-decamp-stage."

"I'm ready to learn them," Blaise said, "and then go to sleep. I'm very tired."

"Stage One," Darius began, opening up a coffin in a freshly dug grave. "Another term is a Fresh Corpse. For the first five days, your body will be a Stage One. The muscles relax, the body cools, and then stiffens, and then the skin tightens up." The body was in plain view, and the students were beginning to be sickened by the sight of a dead little girl, about two or three years old…but the decomposition really didn't seem to have gotten to her quite yet.

"She looks asleep," stated Blaise.

"She will for a while," Darius said. "This is Eleanor Moon. Her mother smothered her with a pillow two days ago."

"Are we going to Resurrect her?" Harry asked, and looked appalled when Darius shook his head. "Why not? She was just a little girl!"

"Children are the hardest to Resurrect," Darius replied. "You won't be ready for that until next year. Besides, I do not have permission to return anyone from St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery to the world of the living without a signed form of approval from my dear friend, Lydia Von Dorian. Besides, who would take her in? The parents wanted her dead…so I don't have their permission either."

"This is horrid," Cassandra said. "My mother drained all the blood out of my older brother years ago, and she still would never mean to kill any of us. Even Death Eaters have respect for their own families…someone truly disgusting must have done this."

"The Moons are the kind of folks that don't want daughters, no matter how cute or nice they can be," Darius explained. "Well…little Eleanor is a Stage One corpse…very fresh." He then walked over to the second coffin he'd unearthed and opened it. "This fellow here died a month ago," he said calmly as he opened the lid. "Everyone, meet Stewart Shady, the former owner of The Wit's End. He was poisoned by an unhappy customer, who's now spending quite some time in Azkaban. Stewart here also just so-happens to be a Stage Two rotter."

"Gross," Blaise said. "Was he really this fat when he was alive?"

"Actually, he was a tad burly," Darius said. "Didn't you get to see him when we all camped out at the Wit's End one Hogsmeade weekend? You know…the time that Stanzi pretended to be a student?"

"She always does that," Blaise argued. "Oh, wait! This was the guy who was flirting with her! He looks a bit different."

"That's because he's beginning to decompose, Blaise," Darius stated calmly. "His skin will fall off his body easily, any parasites and bacteria in him are beginning to feed off his carcass, and his organs are turning to mush. Also…a bunch of gases are forming inside that will be released once he becomes a Stage Three, and that's why his trunk is inflating like some sort of cadaverous balloon."

Harry couldn't think up a better analogy than what Darius had just used; 'cadaverous balloon' was exactly what Stewart Shady looked like. There was no nicer way to describe him.

"This is nasty," Harry muttered to himself. "Is this why drowning victims float in rivers after a while? The gases?"

"Right you are, Harry!" Darius cheered. "You're getting the hang of this! Yes…if Mr. Shady here were tossed into the Thames, he'd float. Homicide detectives call Stage Two rotters in water 'floaters,' just in case any of you didn't know that already. The worst thing about Stage Twos is that they might explode of you poke them in the wrong place."

"I knew that," Cassandra said calmly.

"So did I," Harry added. "Thanks for the information anyway, Darius."

"You're quite welcome," Darius said sweetly. "I'm here to tutor you in the ways of anything Dead…I'm an expert." He slammed the lid on Stewart Shady's coffin, locked it, and then lowered it back into its proper grave. "Let's bury him back up." After everyone shoveled the earth back over Mr. Shady's final resting place, Darius pointed at a third casket. "Two down, three more to go—"

"I thought you said there were only four stages!" Blaise blurted.

"There's something else I want to show you," Darius replied. "Now, be patient and let me show you a Stage Three rotter. These are the most unpleasant to work with. They look nasty, smell nasty, and feel absolutely putrid when you touch them." He opened up a third coffin and said, "Now, my friends, this is a classmate of yours from two years ago…Cedric Diggory."

Harry scooted past his two classmates to get a closer look, and then wished he hadn't done that. He couldn't recognize his friend…the skin had blackened, the body smelled awful, and holes showing what remains were inside could be seen. He leaned over in the opposite direction to vomit…he had never seen anything that disgusting in his entire life.

"Ugh," Cassandra said, still looking sickeningly interested and amused. "I see what you mean about this being the worst stage, Darius…the smell is appalling."

"Those gases that were in the chest cavity in Stage Two have been released, now that the body is beginning to open up and disintegrate. In Stage Three, the skin blackens and begins to peel off. Whatever parasites were on the body are beginning to die as well, and the remains of the innards are turning into an even more odiferous pudding. The rotting will continue like this until Stage Four."

"What's Stage Four?" Blaise asked as Darius closed the lid to Cedric's coffin and began to cover the grave back up. Darius pried the last coffin open to reveal something that was rather white.

"A skeleton," Darius said calmly, "is Stage Four. Everyone…I'd like to introduce you to the great-grandfather of your Curses & Rootwork teacher, Amadeus Skylarke." He slammed the lid shut, and kicked the coffin back into its territory. He scraped all the gravel back over it, and then stomped it down. "If I didn't have any qualms about angering the Dead, I'd have pissed on this fellow's grave…I really loathed him."

"So that's the four Stages of Decomposition?" Harry asked. "That's it?"

"But I want to show you guys that this isn't the only type of dead matter you'll be dealing with as Necromancers," Darius pointed out, showing the three students a funeral urn. "In this urn are the ashes of Sebastian Argentum, a former Potions Master up at Hogwarts. Since the gorgonix is a big deal right now, perhaps you and Blaise have also heard of him, Harry. I know Cassandra knows about Sebastian, because she communes with him regularly. If you want to bring someone back from the grave, my young friends, you must prepare to see, smell, and feel any type of corpse that comes along…whether it's a fresh corpse, stink-balloon, rotter, skeleton, or powder."

He sighed and continued, "Well, that's all I wanted to show you guys. You can keep me company out here for a while longer, if you like, but if you're tired…go on ahead to bed." Cassandra hugged Darius, and then walked off with Blaise. Harry, however, wasn't quite ready to go. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Why did you unearth Cedric of all people?"

"I got his permission to do so," Darius said calmly. "He said that if seeing him like that would help you in your Necromancy studies, he was all for it. Nice fellow, Cedric…I enjoyed having him in my class for two years."

"_Cedric_ took Necromancy?!" Harry was surprised. "He didn't seem like the sort that—"

"Enjoyed it, too," Darius added. "Cedric had a lot of potential to be a decent Necromancer. He had all good grades in there…but, honestly, Harry…you and Cassandra have a lot more potential. However, Cedric was much better than poor Blaise."

"Blaise is rather good," Harry argued.

"I know," Darius said, "but Cedric was better." Suddenly, Malfoy & friends, and several other students, began to walk into the cemetery holding wooden stakes, cloves of garlic, crucifixes, mirrors, string, and sunflower seeds. "Shit," Darius grumbled under his breath. "Here they come again…"

"Again?" Harry asked, looking.

"DON'T DO IT!" Marcus shouted at the other students, trying to fend them off. "HE DESERVES TO BE HERE JUST AS MUCH AS WE DO!"

"Whose side are you on, Cantarus?" Malfoy spat. "I thought you were the best Slayer out of all of us…and the most loyal to the Renaissance. Why are you sticking up for Ahsimal?"

"Because," Marcus replied, "I know better now."

"What's going on over here?" Harry asked. "Why are all of you out at the cemetery?"

"We know why you're here, Potter," Pansy Parkinson snapped. "Afterlight Necromancy. Well, we're here for another reason."

"To Slay me?" Darius said skeptically. "You do know that I have never been successfully Slain, right? Garlic, seeds, crucifixes and all that stuff doesn't work on me…I'm older than those legends."

"But you can't be seen in a mirror!" Malfoy pointed out, wielding a mirror in his left hand.

"So what?" Darius snapped. "Neither can a ghost or a banshee. I don't see what the big deal is."

"You're a vampire," Crabbe said flatly.

"You live forever," Goyle added.

"Vampires are immortal," stated Lisa, "unless they are Slain, murdered, or take their own lives."

"I've done that before," Darius grumbled. "Sometimes Life just isn't worth living and Death is much sweeter."

"Don't fool us, Ahsimal," Malfoy growled. "We've got you surrounded."

"So what?" Darius spat. "I can take on a bunch of young adults…I've done so several times over the millennia. So…you want to Slay me?"

"No," the whole mob said in unison.

"WE want to be immortal," Malfoy said calmly. "To never die, Professor…we want to live forever."

"You're immortality seekers!" Darius shrieked, astounded by what he'd just heard. "All of you are willing to give up so much, just so you won't be affected by age, disease, and most ways of demise?"

"YES!" Lisa squealed with delight. "Bite us!"

"NO!" Darius shouted. "I'd NEVER!" He climbed to the top of a mausoleum, where Harry had already gone, and looked at the crowd further. "You don't want to be vampires, everyone. If I were to bite you, all of you would have to obey me."

"We are strong-minded individuals," Lisa hissed.

"Well," Malfoy said, pointing to his two goons, "some of us are strong-minded."

"It doesn't matter," Darius sounded very worried. "You'll lose a lot of your free will to me—"

"The gorgonix is going to attack more people," Josh said. "I'm worried; please, Professor…save the school by making us all vampires!"

"You're nutters, all of you," Darius replied simply. "Harry, I think maybe you and I should get out of here before this swarm or teenagers become a lynch mob."

"How do you expect me to get out?" Harry asked.

"I'm terribly sorry, Harry, but you're on your own," Darius responded, snapping his fingers. With that, he disappeared in a puff of white vapor and a sound much like iron hitting iron.

Harry looked at his fellow students, and they simply let him walk out. It turned out that it was only Darius they were after. "Where'd he go, Harry?" Lisa asked. "Do you know?"

"No,' Harry said, shoving a few people. "Now let me get out of here before something else happens."

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"Everyone, I hope, got a good night's sleep," Aurelius said happily. "With me, I have all we'll need to perform a traditional Exorcism, like my friend Father Townsend does. Holy water, a few scriptures, an iron nail, white thread, and a set of rosary beads."

"I thought you said that you weren't a Catholic," Hermione countered.

"I'm not," Aurelius responded. "I borrowed these from Professor Skylarke for our out-of-the-classroom lesson today."

"Brilliant," Ron said, looking around. "Do we stay here at The Wit's End another night?"

"No," Aurelius said very curtly.

"After today's class, we go back to Hogwarts," said Snape. "There have been gorgonix sightings out here as well…and it will be easier to find everyone at the school than it would be to locate each and every one of you at different parts of this city."

There were a lot of grumbles, moans, and whines. "Oh, stop that," Snape growled. "Professor Fallowin, Professor Lupin, and I have your safety in our thoughts. If there was no monster roaming around eating people, I'm sure Professors Fallowin and Lupin would have no problem letting you scurry off in each and every part of the city."

"Now, about that Exorcism," Aurelius said in an excited voice, "Father Townsend can't meet with us today, so I'll have to do this one by myself with you guys as spectators. This is not a problem."

"Oh?" Snape jeered. "Sounds like one to me."

"We'll be _fine_," Aurelius ensured everyone.

The walk to the destination of 33 Angelwing Boulevard was surprisingly short, seeing as it was only a block away from the tavern everyone had been staying at. Besides that, it was a bright, sunny day, but rather humid. "It's a lovely day," Aurelius said, "but I warn all of you to prepare yourselves for the worst."

"Why?" Ron asked. "This row house looks rather nice to me—"

"Weasley," Malfoy started, "anything would look good to you." Ron looked seriously offended, but did nothing since Remus, Snape, and Aurelius were there. "But for a small house, this _is_ rather pleasant."

"Look at the rosebushes!" Celia sounded excited, going up to the bushes. "I haven't seen roses like these before…I didn't know there were blue roses!"

"It's a spell," Hermione said. "The person who lives here must be an Herbologist or enjoys Potion making."

"Good guesses, Miss Granger," Aurelius said, "but neither one is accurate, I'm afraid. My client for today, Madame Ismene, is an Alchemist."

"A rather pitiful one, too," Snape added. "The only thing she can make decently enough to sell is her Slumber Tonic. It's the strongest sleep aid I can legally buy…but it does its job very well."

"So she makes a living off of selling her Slumber Tonic?" Celia asked. "Professor, can a person live like that?"

"She's on Disability Pension too," Aurelius explained. "The poor dear is in too much pain to keep a job. Nice lady, though…she let me stay here when I was on the run." He then let out a heavy sigh and added, "It's a real shame that the only reason I'm visiting is to perform an Exorcism on her. I wish you kids could see her in a better state than what you're going to see today, because she's a very nice lady." He then tapped Remus on the shoulder. "My hands are a bit too full to unlock the door. Could you or Severus pull my skeleton key out of my back pocket, unlock the door, and let everybody in?"

"Sure," Remus said, getting the key and opening the door. "But, Aurelius, what I don't understand is why you enjoy your job as an Exorcist."

"I'm helping people," Aurelius bluntly replied. "But the main reason I do it is because it pays well. If I ever can talk a lovely lady into dating me, I want to make sure she doesn't have to work."

"Oh, that's nice," Remus said, not paying much attention to that. "I'll be back at the school with Severus, Aurelius. See you later."

"Aw…come on!" Aurelius said. "Surely you guys aren't going to leave me alone with nearly forty students and a possessed woman?!"

"Watch us," Snape said curtly. "See you later." With that, the Guidance Counselor and the Potions Master both started walking back to Hogwarts. "I'd like a drink before that, and I also need to pick up something at Tour de Nocturne…how about you and I stop at the Annis for a moment?"

"That sounds alright," Remus said, walking off.

"Drat," Aurelius cursed under his breath. "Well, everyone…Madame Ismene is inside, waiting to be Exorcised. Let's help out this wonderful friend of mine and make this as short a visit as possible, okay?"

"Alright," said Harry, noticing that Sirius was sitting on Madame Ismene's porch, barking at her cat.

"Do something about that dog, Harry," Aurelius whispered as he went in. "But that can wait for a while…right now, we pay a house call."

"Why couldn't your Catholic priest friend come, Professor Fallowin?" Hermione inquired.

"Because," Aurelius answered, going into Madame Ismene's kitchen, "today was Confirmation." The students mostly wanted to sit around in the living room and listen to the radio, but Harry and nearly a dozen others wanted to see Madame Ismene. To Harry, it was surprising to see how quickly Aurelius moved through that house to an empty room with nothing but a mattress—and a middle-aged woman in a nightshirt—in it. "Evelyn," he said in a rather nervous-sounding voice. "I've come to end all this."

"_Ym eman si luezal, ecin ot teem uoy, tub I tnaw uoy ot evael em enola, suilerua!_" were the words to come out of Evelyn Ismene's mouth in a rather dark-sounding voice. She was a chestnut-haired lady with a rather sweet-looking face and looked like she would have a very nice smile…if only she'd smile. However, her skin had turned sallow, her hair was filthy, her nails had grown out filthy and snagged, and she smelled like she hadn't bathed in weeks. "_T'ndid uoy raeh em eht tsrif emit, uoy krej?_ _Evael em eht lleh enola!_"

"I know that isn't you speaking," Aurelius said calmly, but there was a slight taunting air to his voice. "Evelyn…it's time for you to calm down and take responsibility."

"_Nyleve si enim won, os kcab ffo_!" Madame Ismene snarled. "_Og yawa_!"

"_Reversum Vocalis!_" Aurelius shouted, pointing his still-rather-new wand at his client. Suddenly Harry noticed that although Madame Ismene looked quite a bit older than Morty, Aurelius, Snape, and the other Nemesarists, she still wore the Ring. "That's actually quite common with Possessed people, everyone…they'll speak backwards."

"Then…what she said…" Hermione said. "Would you like me to write down what she said, Professor?"

"It's crucial," Aurelius said, "before we continue. Please do that."

"She said…" Hermione began, writing down in her notepad, "My name is Lazuel, nice to meet you, but I want you to leave me alone, Aurelius." She sighed. "Then there was a pause, and then it was," she paused again, "Didn't you hear me the first time, you jerk? Leave me the hell alone."

"Then what?" Aurelius asked. "She said something else…you're on a roll, Miss Granger!"

"Evelyn is mine now, so back off. Go away," Hermione said. "That's—"

"I meant every word of that, too," said the grating voice. "I'd like to see some twit like you weaken my grasp on this pretty mind of hers."

"I've dealt with worse, Lazuel," Aurelius said flatly. "Now, you're not a person, are you?"

"No," Lazuel stated, laughing evilly. "I'm an evil spirit. You see, it was easy for me to sneak up on sweet, weak-willed Evelyn and take over. She didn't learn much in Defense Against the Dark Arts to defend herself against me."

"That'd make you a demon, right?" asked Harry, a bit unsure of what to think here.

"Yes," said Lazuel. "If you want to use that terminology. But, don't be mistaken by stereotypes, kid. We're not those little red imps that walk around with pitchforks and have horns…we're everywhere, in every shape and size. Each day, we learn new ways to lower you people into our traps. Every day, we become more clever, more subtle, more difficult to detect…"

"But you still can't stand _this_, now can you?" Aurelius snapped, splashing Madame Ismene with some water in a bottle with a crucifix on it. "Holy water from the local Cathedral!"

"STOP IT, YOU!" Lazuel snarled. "THAT HURTS LIKE YOU'LL NEVER KNOW!"

"I'm trying to drive you out, genius," Aurelius snapped. "Get out. Leave her alone."

"Never," Lazuel said, beginning to scare even Cassandra and Harry. "NEVER! THIS IS THE BEST I'VE HAD IN CENTURIES!"

"This is your last," Aurelius flatly told the evil spirit, putting a salt circle quickly around the mattress, and sloshing more water on the possessed woman. He then pulled out the crucifix and touched Madame Ismene's forehead, left shoulder, and then right shoulder with it.

"You shall not harm this woman any further." There were howls of pain coming from Madame Ismene, until the horrendous wails from Lazuel were replaced by a sigh of exhaustion from the woman herself. "Evelyn, my friend," Aurelius said. "Is it over?"

"I'm…" Madame Ismene began, and then made a strange expression on her face. "What the bloody hell is that horrible smell?" She then smelled her shoulders and gagged. "Ugh…I'm sorry to cut this short, Aurelius, but I've _really_ got to take a shower. I smell absolutely putrid!"

Aurelius and the accompanying students went back into the living room to find Malfoy trying to lip-synch to a Phorcys Lancerie song. "Great news, everyone," Aurelius said. "We can all go back to the school now. My friend is back to her old self, and the demon's gone."

"Hold on!" Malfoy said, sounding surprised. "It was a real _demon_ this time?!"

"Yes," Aurelius said. "They _do_ exist, you know." He walked outside with everyone and the entire group started heading back to Hogwarts.

Sirius then walked up toward Harry and started swishing his tail. "It wasn't that bad in there," Harry said. "It smelled awful, and the demon freaked me out a little bit, but it really wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be." He then said calmly, "How about you and I sneak into the kitchen once we get back and get you something better to eat than table scraps?"

"Good idea," Sirius said, shifting back to his human form. Harry looked a bit uncomfortable about that until Sirius whispered, "Don't worry; everyone else has already walked on. You were assigned to leave Hogsmeade and go back to school today, but it didn't say anything about staying with the group, did it?"

"No," Harry replied. "So, what do I do? Or rather, what do _we_ do?"

"We walk at our own pace. With the short cut I'm going to show you from The Wit's End basement, we'll be in the Hogwarts Labyrinth in no time."

"Great," Harry said. "Are we going to be the last people from the school to leave today?"

"No. Darius is still hanging out in the cemetery, and he looked very happy to see me."

"I can understand why," Harry said. "He told me that you were one of his favorite students at one time…until you quit in the middle of Necromancy II."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Don't get me wrong. Ahsimal's nice, but I didn't like the fact that he was pulling the moves on me in class. That's why I dropped out of Necromancy. Your father really hated the very idea of it, though; thought it was fully a Dark Art."

"Don't you?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but that's the only one I'll make an exception for," Sirius responded. "By the way, you're not going to believe who Remus and I bumped into three days ago." He didn't look quite thrilled.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Wormtail," Sirius growled.

"Oh, did you?" Harry sighed. "You do know he's trying to repent, right? Morty's making him…but I don't think he's really that much against it."

"Morty's fairly decent," Sirius admitted, "but I wouldn't consider him a good person."

"Would you consider him bad?"

"Don't tempt me," Sirius grumbled. "Well, my friend, this door leads to the basement—"

"POTTER!" a familiar voice shouted in surprise. "VAT IS SIRIUS BLACK DOING VITH YOU?! ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD?"

"Oh no," Harry said, looking quite afraid as he turned around. "Professor Snitchgrass, I—"

"Za both of you are to come vith me to discuss zis…" Snitchgrass said, hiding something behind her back, "in za basement. It's about za Labyrinth, and za gorgonix. It's about time you knew about zis…"

hphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

Hello everyone! It's Morty once again! I do hope you all are doing well. I'm sure most of your are extremely excited that it's almost May, which means that school will be out soon, and that some of us will be graduating this year! So...here's the class of 2007!!!!

Thanks go out to Nita, my faithful friend, and my beta. Thanks Nita...I love you!

Thank you to all of my reviewers. And another thanks to everyone who has read this story and didn't review. I hope that you will please kindly review now. Oh yes...one more thing...this story is almost over. Only 9 more chapters to post!

Take care everyone, and I'll see you next chapter. Until then, I remain...Professor Mortimer Skylarke


	43. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-Two:

The Astrologer's Confession and the Gorgonix Unleashed

"Zis may come as a shock to you, 'Arry, about my past…" Snitchgrass began. "Surely you knew somezing vas up about zat, knowing 'ow smart you are."

"You don't get involved with as much as you used to around the beginning of the year," Harry started, "and most of the murders have happened to people who you either liked or strongly loathed."

"And I see you skulking about the school in the darker night hours," Sirius pointed out. "You do some rather curious practices by yourself in the dead of night."

"Oh, so you are staying a' Hogwarts too, eh?" Snitchgrass sighed. "Somehow, I am not all zat surprised…'Arry must ave been 'arboring you zere."

"I know what you're up to, Snitchgrass…and I'm pretty sure it's something Harry needs to know about his former Hawkbane Sponsor—"

"Can it, Black," Snitchgrass hissed venomously, shoving both Sirius and Harry into the basement of The Wit's End. "Both ov you vill learn ov vat's been going on zat I know about…and vat I've secretly been doing to you all year long, 'Arry…"

"What are you talking about?" Harry was beginning to be a little freaked out by this woman…not that the feeling was anything new…it was only being amplified.

"By any chance, 'ave you been feeling dizzy or rather veak lately…or any at all zis year, more zan usual?" Snitchgrass sneered. "As it not been 'ard vor you to stay awake vor any longer zan an 'our or zo? Sleep is becoming much more constant vor you, 'as it not?"

"Not me, Professor," Harry said, but then remembered what had been plaguing a friend of his for months, "but you did notice what happened to Professor Skylarke, right?"

"I did," Snitchgrass admitted, holding her wand out at Harry and Sirius like a guarded weapon. "I also noticed zat he practically died zis year a couple ov times."

"If anything happens to him, you know the Ministry of Magic will be curious as to why he fell," Harry pointed out, "or if it had happened to me." He sneered and said, "Oh, by the way, I let him borrow that crystal ball you gave me before the school year began, around Halloween, and he had the most interesting thing to say about it." Snitchgrass's face turned white as a sheet. "According to him, what you gave me wasn't a RedStar at all…it wasn't even a crystal ball. He said that you'd given me a soul-sucker as a gift."

"I vould never, 'Arry!" Snitchgrass quickly lied.

"Then why were you hinting at drowsiness and fatigue just a minute ago?" Sirius snarled. "You were trying to kill him in the most subtle way possible!"

"So vat if I vas?" Snitchgrass hissed. "It almost vorked, too…just curious, 'ave either ov you figured out vi I did zat? Vat motivated a lady a' my age to do somezing like zat?"

"You're still in touch with Voldemort!" Harry guessed, half-expecting Snitchgrass to look at him like he was nutters, but it wasn't the look she gave him. Instead, Snitchgrass's long jaw dropped in shock. "You mean you really ARE!?"

"Ya," Snitchgrass said, poking Harry defensively with her wand. "I vas in love vith him vile ve vere both in school. Ve dated vor about a year, and zen vent our separate vays for a decade or two. Za both ov us never got back together, but I did become an unmarked Death Eater back in za late sixties…around za same time I got my job as za Divination teacher a' Hogwarts. A few more years passed, and I majored in Astrology especially, and zo za Headmaster promoted me to a specialization class, vere I could focus directly on za more difficult parts ov Astrology vith my students."

"You taught _me_ Advanced Astrology years ago," Sirius muttered, barely looking up at the wicked-looking lady, "and I never knew…"

"I'm not von ov zose ninnies who run about in masks an' cloaks and go abou' killing people," Snitchgrass venomously corrected herself. "My only job ven I vas teaching, Black, 'ere vas to destroy Tybalt Tellulan, za Defense Against za Dark Arts teacher a' zat time. 'Arry, you shocked me ven you admitted to knowing who Tellulan vas."

"Cassandra's guardian ghost, Sebastian Argentum, had quite a tale to tell about Tellulan," Harry said, "as did Professors Snape and Skylarke."

"I vas za one who got za gorgonix to possess Tellulan," Snitchgrass said. "I'm not all zat great vith Necromancy—hate the practice, but hate Ahsimal even more—but I 'ave ze ability to summon up some of za vorst spirits you could possibly never imagine on your own. Lord Voldemort asked me to raise up a parasitic spirit so vile, so devious, and so terrible zat it would ruin its host an' instill fear in all who heard ov it. Zo, ov course, vith my double major in Astrology an' actual Demonology—I bet neither ov you knew Demonology vas still practiced!—I knew right zen zat either a hellion or gorgonix vould be za perfect candidate vor za creature to stop Tellulan."

"That's right," Sirius muttered to himself. "Everyone thought Tybalt Tellulan was the one prophesied to stop Voldemort until Harry came along…so the Death Eaters would have wanted him out of the way…and here I was thinking Snivellus and Morty were nutters for thinking the man was possessed…"

"Feel rather foolish now, don't you, Black?" Snitchgrass jeered, and then continued. "Tellulan vent undercover as a Death Eater to try to get closer to za Dark Lord, but none of za true Death Eaters vere stupid enough to think he vas seriously joining us. So, ve tricked za fool into coming to za Riddle Manor vor a fake initiation ceremony. Vile zere, I planted za gorgonix in him, an' it took him over a year to realize somezing vas vrong vith him. Za killings started, an' ve all vorked hard to have him put in Azkaban…but he vas too cunning. Cynthia Lynches got framed, and za killings continued."

"Sebastian Argentum got mauled to death by Tellulan around that time," Harry pointed out.

"And my older brother's life changed forever that same night," Sirius added. "The poor fellow's living on Disability Pensions and will be stuck in a wheelchair until he dies."

"Ya," Snitchgrass said. "Real pity about Argentum…I actually liked him; nice fellow. He never forgot anybody's birthday, and always managed to pick za nicest presents. My favorite ring came from him."

"Tellulan admitted that the gorgonix had left him," Harry said. "Professor Skylarke told me."

"He thought it had," Snitchgrass said. "Za damn zing can't leave a person unless it leaves on its own or is Exorcised; someone as powerful as Tellulan vould be too arrogant to go to an Exorcist, and gorgonixes love either powerful or charismatic people. Tellulan vas both." With that, she shoved Sirius and Harry into the corridor down in the basement. "Start valking."

"Tellulan died with it in him?" Sirius asked.

"Ya," Snitchgrass said, "and zen it vent back into my custody. I'm not a carrier, but a keeper. After a vile, I vound someone else who vould make a nice home vor za same gorgonix. He teaches up at Hogwarts now."

"The Quirrells have a history of easy possession," Harry said, "but neither one was alive when the second round of attacks began. It couldn't be them…could it?"

"No," Snitchgrass said, "as much as Quirrell vould ave been a vonderful carrier, it's not him or his damn vife." She walked along the passageway with Harry and Sirius, and then warned them that if they made a run for it, she wouldn't hesitate to use a legal but brutal curse on them. "Zis passageway leads to za school labyrinth. In zere is a clue as to who za gorgonix is. 'Arry you've been in za Hawkbane Program all year now, so I hope you're bright enough to figure zis one out on your own. Zince I got to slightly like you after a vile, I'll spare you an' your friend zis von time…but after zis, I vill not hesitate to harm either von ov you." She lowered her wand and said, "I'm not going any farther in zere…it's too dangerous vor me, now zat za gorgonix 'as become zo strong I can't control it anymore." With that, she ran out of the corridor, and then there was the slamming of a door, then the latch of a lock; she'd locked the Hogsmeade exit!

"We're stuck in here," Harry sighed. "The only other way out is to go through here to Turret Seven."

"You mean Argentum's murder site?" Sirius questioned. "How can that place _possibly_ be safe?"

"That's where the Phobomancy classroom is now. Professor Fenrir spends most of his time up there, and I'm sure that he wouldn't mind if I came there to turn in my Nightmare Manipulations paper a day early." Harry pointed to his bag and fished out five sheets of parchment. "Beastie finished it for me yesterday."

"Oh, you found out about his Homework Help, I take it?" Sirius couldn't help but laugh. "James, Remus, Peter and I used to pay Beastie to do that all the time."

"Why would Snitchgrass let us go?" Harry wondered. "I mean, her goal was to kill me…"

"I think she actually grew a tad attached to you," Sirius guessed. "But I wouldn't ponder over it too much when there's a flesh-eating monster running amok in this maze we're stuck in."

"Yeah," Harry said, agreeing. "I agree…maybe this isn't the right time to even think about that…what if that thing comes up out of nowhere in here?"

"It's possible," Sirius admitted. "Wormtail said he saw it the other day…said that the carrier was a bespectacled man with long wavy hair."

"It couldn't be Morty," Harry said. "The soul-sucker was in his possession since Halloween, and it was draining him like it was supposed to do to me. So, then it had to be—" Suddenly, there was the sound of someone whistling and chiseling marble… "It was…it is…"

"Oh, hello Potter!" a friendly voice said merrily in the shadows. The silhouette of a man with long wavy hair was waving at him. "Who's your friend?"

"Snuffles, my pet dog," Harry quickly lied as Sirius just-as-quickly shifted back into a dog.

"Odd place to walk your dog," the man said, and then something happened to the silhouette, making it painstakingly obvious who was talking to Harry…two long, pointy ears popped out of the hair's silhouette.

"Professor Ebonyste," Harry began, "what are you doing down here?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" Ebonyste asked. "You do know I love to make statues, right? Sculpting is a hobby of mine, and I make a little extra cash selling them."

"You have a lot of statues in your room," Harry recalled. "Yeah, that'd explain it."

"My artist pen-name is Pygmalion," Ebonyste added. "You might have seen my work on display in Mitzi's little curiosity shop in Occasion Alley."

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "Your work is very lifelike…as if the statues would come to life at any minute."

"Pretty cool, huh?" Ebonyste said, smiling. "I love doing this so much…but I just wish I could do what Pygmalion himself did. I've sculpted my dream girl already, but I wish she'd come to life and fall in love with me." His smile then became a rather energetic grin. "Want to see her?"

"Sure," Harry said, a bit confused by all of this.

"Ta da!" Ebonyste cheered as he uncovered a statue of Nezura. "Perfect, isn't she?"

"I guess," Harry said, "if you've got a crush on Mitzi Nezura."

"Oh, and I do," Ebonyste said, laughing and kissing the statue. "I really do…I'd sell my own soul, and even take the souls of others, if only it would win her heart."

"But you guys just dated recently, and _you_ broke up with _her_!" Harry was confused here.

"You don't understand," Ebonyste said. "I wanted more than to just date her. You see, I want to marry her and have her as my wife until the end of our days…but there's just something in the way…"

Harry couldn't listen to much more of Ebonyste without feeling sick. His scar was burning like fire, and each time Ebonyste came closer, it got even worse. "Back off," Harry flatly told the teacher. "Just…back off…" Sirius began growling as well when he noticed his godson's discomfort.

"Aw…come on, Potter," Ebonyste said. "You and I aren't sworn enemies or anything."

"We're not good friends, either," Harry fired back.

"I go down here for several reasons," Ebonyste started, a sudden glow coming out from his eyes. "You knew I thought Cassandra had the gorgonix, and then assumed it to be Skylarke. It was neither. Potter, I found out who it really is! I KNOW WHO IT IS NOW!"

"So do we," Ron and Hermione flatly said, walking out of the shadows.

"How'd you two get here?" Harry asked.

"Hermione has it all figured out, mate," Ron explained. "She told me what was going on, and the clues all added up…and we both knew that Ebonyste liked to come down here, so—"

"It's YOU!" Hermione shouted, pointing at the bewildered Foreign Magic teacher.

Ebonyste's ears drooped. "Yeah, you caught me." He didn't seem too eager to put up a fight, either…the look on his face showed that he wanted to give up right then. "I was going to do the finishing touches on my Mitzi statue, settle the score with a special somebody, and then go back up to my classroom peacefully, I swear."

"Oh, sure you were," Ron sarcastically replied.

"You're a danger to everyone!" Hermione hissed. "So now, Ron, Harry, and I are going to turn you in to the authorities."

"Please, don't do that!" Ebonyste sighed. "I'll do anything…just not Azkaban."

"Sorry, but you killed several people—"

"I don't remember a single killing," Ebonyste argued. "That's why I didn't know I was the gorgonix for quite some time—"

"I did my homework quite thoroughly, Professor Ebonyste," Hermione interrupted. "If you remembered the killings, then you wouldn't be our gorgonix…but you _have_ woken up before drenched in blood, right?"

"Yeah, just recently," Ebonyste admitted. "That's how I found out it was me…besides seeing it on my security cam I installed." His ears drooped even lower. "Of all people, I'm the person I least expected…I was trying to help Mitzi hunt the damn thing down…and now _I'm _the damn thing!"

"Come on, Professor," Hermione said. "Don't you want to do the right thing?"

"Yeah," Ebonyste said, "as long as I don't get arrested."

"If you confess to the Aurors, I'm sure they'll make sure you get a reduced sentence—"

"Granger, I don't want a sentence _at all_," Ebonyste blurted. "I'm not a complete idiot."

"Pretty selfish, though," Ron said.

"Look, if you were me, would you turn yourself in?" Ebonyste asked the three Gryffindors. There was silence. "I thought so. Now, I'll just walk away and—"

"_IMPEDIMENTA!"_ the three friends shouted in unison, pointing their wands at the unhappy teacher. Ebonyste, however, didn't seem to be affected by it. "What's going on?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"It has to be the fairy blood," Hermione said. "Half-fairies are immune to some spells."

"Why you little—"

"_Abstainus!"_ another voice shouted. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned around to see Sargon Von Dorian had come into the Labyrinth as well. "Quick, the three of you…get out of here before he transforms into the monster that has taken over his body!"

"Yes, Professor Von Dorian!" Ron said. "I'll gladly follow that advice!" He ran out as quickly as he could. Hermione soon followed.

"Potter, when I said the three of you…I _meant_ the three of you!" Sargon spat. "If the gorgonix attacks you, how can you expect to live?"

"But what about you?" Harry asked. "Don't you need help?"

"That's why I need you to go and find Aurelius Fallowin. Don't worry about me…do you know how the Necropolis works about social status?"

"No," said Harry. "Isn't everyone equal?"

"Not at all!" Sargon said, grinning. "You see, the truly wicked are tormented and when their punishment is over, they live in poverty. The ordinary and some fairly decent folk live in ordinary homes, apartments, duplexes, and caravans. Any good deed you do can help you in the world afterwards…because the people destined to do great and wonderful things are perhaps the most rewarded in Death, if they mean it with their heart. I'm already in the elite in the Necropolis, Potter, for bringing about the Undead Rights, but I want to feel good about my life before I finally go."

"So you're going to throw your life away to save Ron, Hermione, and me?"

"Not exactly," Sargon said. "There's a high probability that I'll live through this and be just fine. But Potter, I have one thing I _really _need you to do for me, and for the rest of the school."

"I'm listening," Harry said, watching Ebonyste begin to fall into convulsions of some sort.

"Either get Headmaster Dumbledore or Professor Fallowin down here as quickly as you can…I need an Exorcist in my presence if we have any chance of saving Adonis Ebonyste." Sargon looked at Ebonyste with a pitiable expression on his face. "Look at the poor chap…a hardcore Slayer being saved by an ancient vampire…how the tables have turned…writhing there as if something were trying to erupt out of every orifice in his body…Potter, run like Hell."

With those last words, Harry obeyed Sargon and ran away from that corridor as fast as he could, Sirius following. Off in the distance, he could hear Sargon shouting something like, "BLOODY HELL! HE'S BEGINNING TO CRASH OUT!!! PLEASE!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!"

"That's what I'm doing," Harry muttered to himself as he kept running. He knew he had to find Aurelius or Dumbledore as quickly as possible; although Sargon was already several decameters away, Harry could still hear him shouting and screaming incantations like a frightened human wizard. After running without a break for a little over three minutes, Harry was exhausted, but could see the entrance to Turret Seven. "Please, either one of you…please be visiting Fenrir…" With that, he began climbing up the staircase until he reached the very top to find Fenrir's door was locked. He knocked on it anyway.

"Who goes there?" Fenrir barked through the door.

"It's me, sir," Harry said, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, come on in, Potter," Fenrir said icily. "So…what are you doing up here at this hour?"

"Er…first off, sir," Harry said, pulling out the parchment, "I finished my Nightmare Manipulation paper early, and I thought I could go ahead and turn it in. Will that be alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Fenrir said, taking the paper. "I'll take it. Consider yourself gaining an extra five points on your assignment for an early turn-in, alright?"

"Okay," Harry said. "I was also wondering…do you know where I could find the Headmaster or Professor Fallowin?"

"Yeah," Fenrir said. "Dumbledore was just in here…if you go out the other door, you might catch up with him if you run."

"Thanks!" Harry chirped, practically sprinting out the second door and running down the other staircase. "Headmaster! HEADMASTER!"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, turning around. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, gasping for air. "Can you perform an Exorcism?"

"I haven't done one in over half a century, Harry," Dumbledore admitted, "but yes, I can perform an Exorcism. What is the problem?"

"Ron, Hermione, and I found out who the gorgonix is," Harry said, "and Sargon Von Dorian is down in the Labyrinth, trying to fight it alone!"

"Why…we better hurry!" Dumbledore started rushing down the stairs at a speed Harry thought impossible for a man that age. "Sargon's down to his last life, and he's such a good fellow…Darius will be heartbroken if anything happens to him. Besides, we really must get there before the gorgonix decides to attack someone else." As the two continued running, Dumbledore asked, "So, Harry, who is it?"

"Sir, it's Ebonyste!" Harry said. "Professor Ebonyste is the gorgonix!"

"I never saw that one coming," Dumbledore admitted. "I'd almost assumed it was Cassandra Snape by the way everyone's been trying to peg that poor girl."

"And Snitchgrass is loyal to Voldemort," Harry added. "She admitted to it."

"She actually confessed?" Dumbledore asked. "I knew she was a Death Eater, but she didn't have the mark, and there was no real evidence to link her to any of the stuff people claimed she had done. I knew that she and Tom Riddle had been a couple for a while when they were students, but…honestly…the confession to that is the only thing anyone will need to place her in Azkaban."

"Are you serious? You knew?" Harry asked, running as fast as he could, hoping Sargon would be fine.

"Yes, I knew," Dumbledore said, "and I knew about Parenein, Lewn, and Pyrites…there was just no evidence."

"Did you know about Ebonyste?" inquired Harry.

"No, nor did I know about Quirrell," Dumbledore admitted. "I just hope Sargon's alright by himself…"

"I hope so too," Harry said. "I don't know him that well, but he seems like a very nice fellow."

"Oh, he is," Dumbledore said. "He and Darius taught me Necromancy when I was a student here. In fact, Sargon gave me a few private lessons on Phobomancy, Demonology, and Bibliomancy over my seven years at Hogwarts. I actually like him better than Darius."

"But you don't really like Professor Ahsimal that much, do you?" inquired Harry.

"I can tolerate him, and I respect him," Dumbledore said, "but respect and liking are two different things. You see, Harry, Darius is a very admirable person, and very concerned about his kind…he's practically the head of the vampiric world now…but some of his tactics are not very honorable. He even joined the Death Eaters for a while to gain power." He took a deep breath and said, "So, Harry, which way leads to Sargon and Ebonyste?"

"Follow me, sir," Harry said, running as quickly as he could to where the screaming was coming from. Soon, both Dumbledore and Harry were in the presence of something so horrible and grotesque…Harry couldn't believe that it had once been Ebonyste.

The gorgonix was enormous, smelled like a Stage Three corpse, and looked like it could tear apart anything it wanted in a matter of seconds. Seven long, dragon-scale clad arms were all flexing about, with nearly a dozen spidery fingers on each. The muscle could be seen, barely covered in the tough scales, but the veins could also be seen bulging out, but also scale-clad. Sharp bone talons and spikes protruded out of the flesh in a very painful-looking way, and the body was so large, lean, and terrible…and the white rim around the blue eyes could still be seen…and to make things even worse, the creature was still wearing Ebonyste's sunglasses.

"I never thought I'd be seeing _this_," Dumbledore sighed. "Don, I know that's you—"

"No, you don't understand," the gorgonix spoke in a loud, booming, terrible voice. "Don is there, over yonder. Dumbledore, you're too late…he crashed out. I'm freed."

"I'm…not…dead…yet…" Ebonyste muttered in the corner, barely moving. "Someone…please…help me…"

"Help's on the way, Adonis," Dumbledore said. "I'm going to help Sargon and Harry fight—"

"Mr. Hyde already took a big bite out of Sargon," Ebonyste admitted. "Look over there for yourself, Dumb-Boulder."

"Mr. Hyde?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's what I call the gorgonix," Ebonyste explained. "Look, Harry…those killings…it wasn't me…it was that damn creature…"

"You're going to be alright," Harry told the Foreign Magic teacher. "I'm sure that Ron and Hermione have gone for help as well. They'll be back here at any minute with reinforcements, and someone will take you to the Infirmary."

"I'm not as bad off as Sargon," Ebonyste admitted. "Stupid blood-drinker, risking his last life for a Slayer…it was an honorable move, but pretty stupid too."

"He was being selfless," Harry argued. "I'm sure that it took a lot of courage for him to do what he felt would be the right thing."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ebonyste said. "How about you help Dumb-Boulder fight Mr. Hyde, or go comfort Sargon in his last living moments? He won't be coming back to life ever again. If I die, I can at least be revived…he's used up his spares."

"I'll do that," Harry said, beginning to get up, but Ebonyste grabbed the side of his shirt and tugged.

"One more thing," Ebonyste said. "Please tell him that I'm sorry I Slew him…I should have never become a Slayer. I'm so sorry…"

"Alright," Harry said, prying Ebonyste's tan hand off his shirt. He went over to see how badly Sargon had been injured, and was quite surprised to see that the vampire was still alive…although barely. "Are you alright, Professor?"

"To someone as great as you, Harry Potter, I'm just Sargon," Sargon responded, his voice sounding as if his chest cavity were beginning to cave in. "What a fool I was…to risk my life for the man who first killed me."

"It wasn't foolish," Harry said. "You did the right thing. If more people behaved like you just did, this world would be a much better place. Also, Ebonyste said that he was really sorry for Slaying you, and that if more vampires behaved just like you did, then there would probably be no such thing as a vampire Slayer anymore."

"You speak wisely for someone your age," Sargon wheezed, his elegant voice beginning to rasp. It was obvious he was dying. "Don't worry about me…I only have one regret…and that is the fact that I'll never see Darius again…how's he going to cope with my death?" He looked tearily at Harry and said, "I wish you and I had met earlier on and gotten a chance to know each other better…it's been an honor knowing you. Just…please…tell Darius I love him."

"I'll tell him you loved him, Sargon," said Harry.

"No," Sargon said, "I haven't loved him…I love him. When I die, it won't end."

"You're a noble fellow," Harry stated, "and I'm sure that the Necropolis will welcome your final stay there tremendously." Suddenly, he was caught by surprise; Sargon had mustered up most of his strength and wrapped Harry into his arms in an embrace. "I'll help destroy the gorgonix, and I know Ron and Hermione will be coming with reinforcements at any moment…hopefully Darius will be there with them and you can tell him that you love him yourself."

"That would be nice," Sargon said, his breathing beginning to slow down and get heavier.

With that, Harry came to Dumbledore's aid to help stop the gorgonix from going any further. "Headmaster, what's been happening while I was listening to Ebonyste and Sargon?"

"Oh, nothing much," Dumbledore said, "It just so-happens that most of the spells are bouncing off this bloody creature. I might have to do something illegal to get it to stop."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Like an Unforgivable Curse…like the Death Curse, to be more specific," Dumbledore said. "I'm just glad Hagrid isn't here…he'd be upset to see me put down any creature, demonic or not."

"Er…Headmaster?" Harry tapped Dumbledore on the shoulder. "It looks like we have backup. Look behind you." Dumbledore turned around and a smile appeared on his face.

"I know Sargon said to stay away for our own safety," Hermione said, "but we couldn't leave him alone…reading about gorgonixes in Defense Against the Dark Arts and on my own led me to the conclusion that Professor Fallowin would be the number one person Ron and I needed to locate."

"I found him," Ron said with an air of accomplishment in his voice. "He was having tea with Furrier, Lethe, and Talus."

"Did you guys find anyone else?" asked Harry.

"Yes," Ron responded. "Look behind, mate; we brought about half the faculty and several students eager to destroy the gorgonix. Hey, even Dobby wanted to come."

"Dobby will teach that brute a lesson!" Dobby shouted, waving a frying pan.

"It's wonderful to see how many people came to help," Dumbledore said, "but no time for thank you's, everyone…we've got to get rid of this thing once and for all…so history won't repeat itself."

"I understand perfectly," Furrier said, wielding his wand in one hand, a crowbar in the other. "Let's kick some gorgonix ass."

"Don't get too cocky, Alex," Snape interrupted Furrier's glory statement. "This thing has killed several this year…and each time it kills, it gets stronger."

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted, pointing. "It's got something in its teeth!"

Harry looked up to see what it was, and then—like seeing Cedric—he wished he hadn't…it was one of Sargon's arms.

"Who had the gorgonix, Potter?" McGonagall asked. "Was it Skylarke after all?"

"How could it be me?" Morty retorted, looking rather peeved by McGonagall's half-baked accusation. "I'm right here, Minerva!"

"It was Ebonyste," Harry said to everyone. "Please, somebody…he's crashed out, but he's still alive. Get him to the Infirmary."

"I'll make sure o' that," said Hagrid, bursting through the crowd. He picked up Ebonyste like a child would a rag doll and tossed him over his shoulder. Ebonyste groaned, and then passed into unconsciousness. "Sargon Von Dorian's over 'ere too…should I be getting 'im as well?"

"Please do," Harry and Dumbledore said in unison. Dumbledore then continued, "Sargon's the reason Ebonyste, Ron, Hermione, and even Harry, are still alive. Make sure he gets immediate healing treatment; we all owe him so much."

"Excuse me!" Aurelius shouted, shoving several people out of his way. "Move it! Get out of my way! Exorcist coming through!" His voice made it clear that he meant business and was rather agitated already. "Everyone, remain calm! This is only going to take a moment—OH SHIT!! LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD! WHERE THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?!"

"That came from Sargon Von Dorian, Aurelius," Dumbledore announced. "He had his arm ripped off, as well as a few other pieces of his body."

"This is disgusting…" Aurelius grumbled, and then looked at the gorgonix. "You're not so tough. I've dealt with worse."

"You're bluffing," the gorgonix said in a taunting, calm voice. "You're not a good liar, human."

"Okay, so I was bluffing," Aurelius was beginning to sweat. "You're the worst I've ever dealt with _by_ _far_ but I still think I can handle you and finish you off."

"Not if I do that first," the gorgonix crowed and flexed a pair of translucent naked bat wings that Harry hadn't seen there earlier. It then opened its mouth very widely and roared; its nine rows of teeth (with Sargon's arm still pinned in four of the rows) could be seen easily, as well as its forked black tongue. It lunged at Aurelius, but missed, since the Exorcism teacher was nimble enough to get out of its way. "Stand still!"

"I'm not going to do that," Aurelius retorted. "You've gotten some bad information, mate; not all humans are stupid." His eyes wandered about as he ran in circles, like some sort of magical coward, until his eyes locked on Harry, Ron, Hermione, and nearly thirty of his other students. "Everyone, this is your final test!"

"I thought the field-trip to Hogsmeade yesterday was our last test!" Malfoy argued.

"It was…but this is more important than just saving Madame Ismene!" Aurelius argued back. "THIS IS ABOUT SAVING ME, YOU, AND EVERYONE ELSE! TOGETHER, MY STUDENTS, WE CAN STOP THIS THING…AND FIND OUT WHICH ONES OF YOU ARE TRUE EXORCISTS AT HEART!"

"You can't do that on your own, Aurelius?" Snape jeered. "You wear the Ring, don't you? You've attended each meeting since we first banded together, and joined us this year…you're a powerful Exorcist. You can do this without the help of mere children."

"NO! I CAN'T!" Aurelius shouted back. "DAMN YOU, SEVERUS! YOU ALWAYS HATED ME!"

"Is that true?" Harry heard Morty ask Snape. "Severus, is what Aurelius saying the truth?" Snape didn't answer that, but pursed his lips.

Aurelius focused his attention back to the students after that. "You're not children, you know. This is the time where you can save your own life…and the lives of everyone else in this area. Together, I swear, we can destroy the gorgonix and put an end to all the death—" he stopped speaking and began to scream in a horrible way as the gorgonix bit his leg and got a firm grip on him. Aurelius couldn't get away, because his left leg was being chewed up, and soon the gorgonix was dangling him in the air. Nothing he said was coherent anymore.

"We've got to save him!" Hermione sounded absolutely bewildered. "It's not a vapor anymore, now that crashing out made it a solid…so the Dispersion Charm won't work…it's no longer in a body, so the Eviction Charm can't work…" She then gasped. "I know what Charm we're supposed to use!"

"I say use the _Avada Kedavra_," said Cassandra, coming up closer. "That'll kill it."

"True, but that's illegal!" shouted Furrier. "I'm going to try to bash its brains out with my crowbar…who's with me?" Only Stanzi raised her hand.

"The Expiration Charm!" Hermione shouted. "Everyone who's taken Exorcism…altogether! Let's use the Expiration Charm!"

"But first, Cassandra," Harry said, grinning. "Make the damn thing choke like Parenein did."

"That's like prodding a snake with sticks before bashing its brains out!" Cassandra hissed. "Kill the damn thing before it kills anyone else! USE THE EXPIRATION CHARM!"

"_EXPIRATIUS!"_ all the Exorcism students shouted in unison. Soon, the students who hadn't taken Exorcism caught on and joined in. _"EXPIRATIUS!"_ After a few minutes of that charm, the gorgonix collapsed…dead.

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_Hello everyone! Well, this tale is quickly coming to a close. Only a few more chapters to go! I honestly can't tell you how disappointed I am that hardly anyone is reviewing this story. But, I will continue to post until it's done. I promised my friend, Nita, that I wouldn't give up, so I won't. _

_Thanks go out to everyone who has reviewed, and another thanks for those who have read the tale thus far. And, a very special thanks to Nita, my beta and friend._

_Until next time, I bid you good evening. Professor Mortimer Skylarke_


	44. Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-Three:

Lethe's Apprehension

"Sargon…please…this isn't going to be the end," Darius whispered in his lover's ear. "Just hold on a few more minutes…Poppy's coming with the ointment you need to—"

"Give it a rest, Darius," Snape said. "He's dying, and you know it."

"The school is overrun with vampires," Dr. Hemlock pointed out, looking around. "Darius, are these friends of Sargon's?"

"Close guess, Doctor," Darius said tearily. "That's his family…you see, he's the childless Patriarch of the Von Dorian clan."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Hemlock said. "That was a brave thing he did…and I like to think that almost everyone here would do the same if they were in his situation." Ebonyste and Aurelius were groaning in other beds. "Can it, you two," Dr. Hemlock snapped. "I'm sure the both of you are in serious pain, but Sargon's got to be looked at first!"

"Sargon…" Darius was tearfully grim, and it was terribly depressing to see him like that. "Sargon…I love you…"

"And I love you too, Darius," Sargon managed to squeeze the words out, but his face grimaced in pain. "I always will."

"Can I PLEASE get a Healer over here?" Aurelius yelped, pointing at his leg (which was still bleeding quite a bit) "I can't feel my leg!"

"Good for you," Snape spat, folding his arms. "Now that it's gone numb, maybe you'll shut up."

"I've got the medicine for Sargon Von Dorian with me, everyone, so please, let me through," Madame Pomfrey said, scooting past everyone. "It's about time he—"

"You just missed him," Darius angrily said. "He's already crossed over."

"Oh dear," Madame Pomfrey said. "There's nothing I can do to take someone back from Death, even if it was by a few seconds…Darius, can't you bring him back?"

"No, I can't," Darius said, tears finally coming out of his beautiful mauve eyes. "Vampires fade…immortal, we may seem, but we can only rise from the Dead just so-many times…"

"Darius, I'm terribly sorry," Madame Pomfrey started. "Is there anything I can do to—" She was suddenly cut short when she was stunned by what Darius did next; an ornamented white hand slapped the side of her face so hard that it left a red impression once it came off.

"IF ONLY YOU HAD MOVED A SECOND QUICKER!" Darius shouted, a bit of a dark purple finally coming into his colorless face. "THANKS TO YOUR LAZINESS, POPPY, I'LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!"

His face was becoming even more overcome with color…the dark vampire's elixir rushing into his cheeks to almost make him look fully alive. For the first time in a long time, Harry actually felt afraid of the Necromancer.

"Darius, it was a mistake," said Lawrence Von Dorian, coming up to the albino to pat his shoulder. Darius brushed Lawrence off and scowled. "She couldn't have come any faster, and now Sargon will be highly honored in his Death. Besides, this won't be the last you'll see of him; you'll still get to see him at the funeral." Darius broke into heavier tears at that, and ran out of the Infirmary, wailing in a way Harry had _never_ heard before…nor did he ever want to hear again.

"Poor Professor Ahsimal!" Hermione sighed. "I really feel sorry for him. You'd have thought he'd lost a lover _and_ an only child the way he's carrying on."

"Look, Hermione," Harry said, "even I have a chance to see my parents alive again. It might never happen, but there's still the possibility. Also, I have the comfort of knowing I'll be fine when I die. Vampires don't have that comfort."

"He's got a point, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick. When he noticed the scowls Ron, Hermione, and Harry were giving him, he sighed. "Fine…sorry for interrupting…"

"Do you think Darius is going to try to Resurrect him anyway?" asked Ron.

"He's too smart to do that," Harry said, looking once more at how crowded the Infirmary was getting. "Maybe we should leave."

"I can't believe he hit Madame Pomfrey," Hermione grumbled under her breath.

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A week passed, as did the funeral of Sargon Von Dorian (perhaps the most heavily-attended funeral Harry had ever been to), but classes continued…it was only late April, after all. There were still two more months left before school would get out…and Harry would have to spend his final summer with the Dursleys.

Aurelius left the Infirmary two days later with a new wooden leg. Besides the gorgonix bite and the loss of a limb, he came out of that battle unscathed, and ready to go back to teaching Exorcism the next day. In fact, he actually started teaching with a bit more gusto than he had earlier in the semester. It was as if a new air had come to him.

As for Ebonyste, he didn't die (as 99.9 of all crashed-out gorgonix carriers _do_, mind you!) from the whole gorgonix ordeal, nor was he prosecuted or arrested. The Ministry of Magic found him innocent, and the monster haunting him guilty of all the Hogwarts murders, save the Wolfgang Leir case. It took him nearly five days to recuperate and about that long to be able to babble anything coherent…but after those few painstakingly long days, he was back to normal…or what _normal_ meant for a Miamian half-fairy.

It was also a bit odd, but nobody had seen much of Darius since the funeral except in Necromancy class. What the Hawkbane students had seen of him, however, was not very flattering…it looked like he hadn't eaten anything in days.

The first class of the day was Clairvoyancy, and Furrier didn't seem to be too bothered about Darius's loss. "After this year is over, the Hawkbane Program is going to disband, anyway," Furrier announced. "We'll still offer Advanced courses, of course, because those are rather fun to teach. But for all the special privileges, mentorships, and trips…that won't continue. You're not going to have to report to your Hawkbane mentors every Saturday anymore." There were a few cheers. "Yeah, this is what Dumbledore asked me to read to you guys…but that's about it. How about I show you how to do a bit of Bibliomancy in here today?"

"That'd be great!" Lisa cheered. "What is it?"

"It's Clairvoyancy involving books," Furrier said sweetly. "I should be giving each of you either a book of philosophic quotes, random words of wisdom, or a religious text of some sort…but all the school budget gave me right now were a few random books and textbooks, but mostly magical dictionaries. Those will have to do. Now, I want all of you to _concentrate_ strongly on a question in your mind. Clear your mind of all thoughts save that one, and hold the book in your hands." He started passing the books out.

"That's easy!" Malfoy stated.

"I agree," Furrier said, tossing books to every student in the room. "Too easy, in my opinion, for Sixth Years, or even Second Years…but watch it, Malfoy; one of you—at _least_ one of you—will somehow screw it up." When he was done passing the books out, he transfigured back into a calico cat and sat in his little plush bed on his desk. "Does everyone have a question in mind, and a book to work with?"

"I don't have a book, Professor Furrier," admitted Ron. "Could I please have a book?"

Furrier stomped a little paw down on the desk and said, "Come and get one, Weasley. You should know by now—very well—that I don't bite."

"Nice kitty," Ron said, petting the teacher. Furrier actually purred, then told him to get back to his seat. "So…I think we all have a question by now. Now what?"

"Hold the book in your hands," Furrier instructed. "Then I want each of you to clear your minds of everything _but_ your question. Repeat the question over and over, and let your right index finger—your seventh finger—sift through the pages until something in your subconscious tells you to stop turning. Then let your finger guide you to the right part of the page for you."

"Then what happens?" asked Harry.

"Open your eyes and read what's on the page. If you did it right, the answer will be right there," Furrier explained.

"What kinds of questions can we ask a bloody dictionary?" Malfoy snapped.

"You'd be surprised," Furrier flatly spat, and swished his tail in agitation. "I'm going to sit here and read The Daily Prophet while you students screw up something as easy as Bibliomancy."

"There's so much Clairvoyancy," Hermione muttered. "Who'd have thought it covered so much the way _Lewn_ was teaching?"

"Get to work, please, before I start giving out detentions," Furrier warned, playing with his little catnip mouse some random First Year had given him. "You all know I give them out."

"PROFESSOR FURRIER!" Lisa shouted. "Can we take turns demonstrating in front of the class first?"

"Sure, I guess," Furrier sighed in exasperation. "We'll do that for ten minutes, then all of you are to do this on your own. Homework…want to already know what it is?" Nobody responded. "I'll tell you anyway…write down every answer you get in your book, and for next class…we will be sharing what we got…and what we think it meant."

"Thanks for telling us in advance," Ron grumbled where only Harry and Hermione could hear him.

"Since you mentioned going in front of the class, Turpin, you go first," Furrier bluntly said. "I'll be grading this. You see, I gave you foolproof directions, so there's hardly any way you could mess up. Go on."

"Yes, Professor Furrier!" Lisa looked happy as she pranced up there, her bleach-blonde hair hitting a few people in the face as she passed up to the teacher's desk. "Okay…the question I will be asking is, '**What kind of man am I going to marry someday?**', and I will be using International Wizarding Dictionary as my source." She closed her eyes, and began to mumble, her finger flipping the pages. After a few seconds, she paused, then opened the page…and soon stopped at one part. She opened her eyes and read aloud, "**Pig: (n.) **_a small pink mammal from whom bacon, ham, some sausages, and pork comes from. A pig is a very tasty animal, but not exactly the cutest thing under the sun._"

"You're going to marry a pig!" Malfoy teased. Lisa went back into the crowd, not very happy with her results. "I'll go next!"

"You do that," Furrier mumbled from his desk, now playing with a peacock feather.

"The question I'll be asking is, '**What is the meaning of life?**' and—"

"I hate to cut this short, Malfoy, but you're not experienced enough to ask something that complex," Furrier snapped. "Ask something rather pointless, like Turpin did."

"Alright, then," Malfoy said, grinning. "This is our Care of Magical Creatures textbook. I'm going to ask which magical creature I'm the most like." He followed the same procedure as Lisa, and then opened his eyes…and scowled. "Do I _have_ to share this?"

"Yes," Furrier jeered. "You were in such a rush to get up here…I daresay share it so we can all laugh at you."

Malfoy's face turned beet red, and he lowered his head as he muttered two words of total embarrassment. "Baby Unicorn." He looked even more unhappy than Lisa had as he went back to his desk.

"Granger, how about you go next?" Furrier asked.

"Why not?" said Hermione, getting up. "The book I have with me is The Continuous Book of Perpetual Curses by Elhazred, and the question I asked was, '**Which Curse will be easy for me to master in the near future**?'" She sifted through the pages much slower than everyone else, and then let her finger guide her, until she felt it freeze. Curious, she opened her eyes and couldn't believe it. "Er…Professor…it's the Soul-Binding Charm."

"What's it do besides the apparent soul-binding?" Furrier asked.

"If done properly, the Soul-Binding Charm can be used to make the cursed unable to deny any request of the curser," Hermione said, her eyes widening. "This is pretty cool, Professor!"

"Isn't it?" Furrier agreed. "You know, I really enjoy this too…my little paws can get the exercise they need."

The rest of the class enjoyed looking through their books to find out the answers to their questions. The more it was done, the easier it got…and that was really saying something, because it had been rather easy to begin with.

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"Hello," Trelawney said, walking up to the students. "Did any of you figure out who the gorgonix was?" There was utter silence, and a few scowls. "I know I figured it out…I was just too terrified by Adonis Ebonyste's powerful aura to tell anyone!"

"Sure," Cassandra sarcastically grumbled. She tapped Harry on the shoulder and whispered to him, "You know…everyone says it's normal for vampires to mourn in shorter periods than full humans, but it's not true; I hardly knew Sargon until he was Resurrected this year, but he was the leader of the Clan…everyone in our family loved him. However, I'm so glad that you were there to help…if it weren't for you, the gorgonix could have probably killed a lot more people…and everyone would still think it was me."

"But that wouldn't make any sense," Harry said, "because vampires can't be possessed by gorgonixes or hellions…only by demons and powerful people."

"You saved the whole school, and Hogsmeade, Harry," Cassandra whispered further. "I just hope you're not plagued by guilt over Sargon's death."

"Please, drop it," Harry said. "That _does_ plague me; if I hadn't left, I could have helped him fight the gorgonix, and he probably would have come out of the fight alive."

"No," Cassandra responded. "By getting Dumbledore in there, you did the right thing. You _do_ know that the whole Clan has sworn to hold you in high regard, right? You're an honorary Von Dorian Clansman now…although you're human."

"That's pretty cool," said Serena, interrupting. "Harry, vampires don't do that for nothing…not even American vampires."

"Now, everyone," Trelawney practically shouted, "it has come to my attention that Professor Lucinda Snitchgrass—who has been teaching at this school for a little over thirty years now—has resigned and disappeared. She came here on Monday to tell me she was leaving and wouldn't be returning." There was a bunch of applause and cheering in the crowd. "Oh, stop that! She was my friend!"

"Did you know she was a Death Eater?" blurted Ron. "And how come you didn't notice that the crystal ball Harry kept bringing to this class until Halloween was a soul-sucker?"

"I may be psychic, Weasley, but I don't know everything," Trelawney said in a soft, warning voice.

"Everything, or anything?" Cassandra jeered.

"Twenty Points from Slytherin for that remark, Miss Snape," Trelawney spat. "Now, do any more of you want to make me even madder?"

"Oooo!" Malfoy shouted, raising his hand. "ME!"

"You don't want to peeve me, Mr. Malfoy," Trelawney said in a warning voice. "Don't make me write you up!" Malfoy got up out of his seat and began drinking the tea in the teacups. "I'm warning you! I'll write you up, I swear!"

The teasing kept up for minutes, much to the entertainment of the classmates and displeasure of the Divination teacher. However, everyone was surprised when McGonagall came in and said, "Class is dismissed, and everyone is to report to the Dueling Auditorium immediately."

"What's wrong, Professor McGonagall?" asked Hermione. "Did something happen?"

"Your Alchemy teacher has just been arrested for an attempted murder five years ago…and she has something the officials want her to confess to each and every one of you."

"Oh no," Harry grumbled. He knew what had just happened; Lethe's true identity had been discovered.

"Besides that news, Professor Lethe has something _else_ she needs to tell you Sixth and Seventh Years especially." McGonagall sighed and said, "Potter, you of all people should hear this second confession she'll be making."

"Do I have to go?" Trelawney asked. "You know how I am about leaving my chambers—"

"No, Sybil," McGonagall said, rolling her eyes. "You can stay up here as long as you like. You don't have to say your goodbyes to Juno." She turned around and grinned at Trelawney. "You _can_ see the future, right?"

"Of course!" Trelawney said, beaming.

"Then, just for fun," McGonagall began, "how about telling me what Juno is going to confess? I have no idea what it is, but Albus really wants it out in the open…and said Potter should especially hear this."

"I know she'll say, Minerva," Trelawney bluffed, "that she cheated on Constanza."

"Somehow, I feel that's not it," McGonagall said flatly. "Come along, students."

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"Everyone, I am sorry to be interrupting your classes at this time for this reason," Dumbledore said sadly, "but we have just lost another professor…our Alchemy professor, to be specific." He pointed at Lethe, who looked absolutely outraged about being handcuffed and surrounded by Aurors. "Here she is, everyone, the famous musician and one of the best Alchemy teachers Hogwarts has seen in a very long time."

"Juno here has something she needs to tell all of you," Moody said, walking up to the front with the other Aurors. His magical eye focused on Harry for a moment, and a smile was on his face, as if to say 'this one isn't going to be bothering you again for a _long _time,' or something just as "assuring." He shoved the arrested woman up to the front and said, "So, go ahead; tell them about what you were brewing up in secret!"

"What if I don't want to?" Lethe spat in retaliation.

"You're going to tell them," Moody argued, "I assure you. Whether I have to stick some Veritaserum in you or not…it doesn't matter to me." He yelled in her ear, "Tell them about what you were making!"

"I…" Lethe began, looking down, "was making a Philosopher's Stone…in Turret Six…after-school…"

"Look at them and tell the whole story," another Auror hissed. Harry was a bit unhappy with the way Lethe was being paraded about.

"Another property of the Philosopher's Stone is to cure vampirism," Lethe said loudly, a grimace of pain on her face. She turned to Moody and said, "I'll finish in a moment…but could you _please_ loosen the handcuffs a bit? My circulation's being cut off."

"Sure," Moody said, loosening Lethe's cuffs a bit. "It's not like you're a Death Eater or anything. If you were, I'd have said 'no' in a heartbeat."

"I know you would," Lethe mumbled just loud enough for Harry to hear her (he was in the front row, right by Lethe's feet). She then looked back up at the students and said, "I knew how to make one, as did Nicholas Flamel and Icarus Parenein…and I thought I'd give it a shot as well, see if I'd be as successful as Flamel in creating one."

"You were interested in the Elixir of Life as a byproduct, weren't you?" Kingsley Shacklebolt barked.

"What is this, a witch hunt?" Lethe looked outraged once more. "Of _course_ I was; for Stanzi and Cecil, and our soon-to-be second child. I lost my family once…and I wanted to make sure that would _never_ happen to me again."

"Innocent enough," Moody said, turning to the Aurors. "Now, if _that_ was the only reason, why did we arrest her? You must have told me an incomplete story."

"There _is_ more, Alastor," Tonks said, folding her arms. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of the 1991-1992 school year was a Nymphomagus…didn't you know?"

"Apparently none of you did," Lethe blurted.

"Quit being cheeky, young lady!" Moody warned. "You're going to Azkaban for _something_—"

"Damn right she is," Tonks said, "because I think all of you shouldn't be calling that fiend 'Professor Lethe.' In fact, 'Professor Quirrell' would be more appropriate, since they are one in the same." There were several gasps in the crowd. "Harry Potter's would-be murderer has finally been captured."

"That's odd," Moody said, laughing a bit. "I thought he died."

"Oh, I did," Lethe said, shifting back into Quirrell right in front of everyone. "You see, in the past year or so, I have made some _big_ changes…and if I'm going off to Azkaban, I'm going to have to take someone else with me."

"We know Ahsimal brought you back," Moody said flatly. "He's off the hook." Quirrell's jaw dropped in shock. His left hand kept going back to the place on his neck where the bite-mark scar was still healing.

"Whoa," Ebonyste said, also sitting in the front row. "I'd have never thought hot-to-trot Juno Lethe was _that_ crackpot! Great detective work, guys!"

Harry looked around, and couldn't believe a single bit of this assembly. The smiles on the faces of Ron, Hermione, and the other Sixth Years were unbelievably large. Laughter and cheers of joy could be heard from most of the staff, glad to be rid of Lethe once and for all. The First through Fifth Years sat there, confused, but then began to clap for the Aurors, who were clearly enjoying the attention. Off in the back, however, Harry could see Cecil and Stanzi both looking very unhappy by the actions of everyone…he couldn't blame them. Then, he looked back up on the auditorium stage at his Alchemy teacher, who had shifted back into Lethe. For just a moment, those blue eyes looked directly into his, and he could—just for a moment—feel how Lethe did.

"There's only one thing that can save you from a lifetime in Azkaban, Quirrell," Moody said, sighing, "or are you Lethe right now?"

"Lethe," Lethe answered. "I'm Lethe at the moment."

"Well, Lethe…" Moody started over, "you're at the mercy of Harry Potter at this moment." He shoved Lethe directly toward Harry, where she could look directly at him. "If he forgives you, you're free to go and keep your job—if Dumbledore permits—and if not, off to prison we take you…to have tons of fun with our wonderful Dementors."

Lethe shivered at that. "Harry, I'm not the same person who once tried to achieve your demise. You knew about me being your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for _months_ and never reported me…please…I'm begging you…don't separate me from my wife and children…I'm a Von Dorian Clansman also."

"So what?" Cassandra hissed. "Clansmen can turn each other in at any rate. Just because the Von Dorians have sworn to protect you, doesn't mean they'll cover your back in legal cases." She scowled at Lethe. "Pity, really. I found that out the hard way."

Harry couldn't help but feel bad about Lethe's situation. The teacher had become a truly different character over the year, and really had been trying hard to start a new life as the alternate form. "Are there _any_ ties with Voldemort left?'

"Let's find out, shall we?" Moody asked. "Potter, we'll make sure—for your sake, and for Lethe's—by giving our little friend here a dosage of Veritaserum I swiped out of Snape's storage room." In the middle row, there was a very unhappy Potions Master by that news. Moody pulled a small flask out of a pocket and poured the Veritaserum in it…then offered it to Lethe. "Drink up, lass, and we'll find out the truth."

"Gladly," Lethe said, and gulped the whole dosage down in one go. "What was the question again?"

"Do you still have ties to Voldemort?" asked Moody.

"No," Lethe flatly said. "I don't."

"Well, Potter," Moody sighed, still dangling Lethe in a rather unsafe position. "Just give me the word and I'll let her go. Give me the other word, and you'll never have to deal with this piece of trash again."

"Innocent," Harry said, "under one condition."

"Name it," Lethe stated. "I'd do anything."

"You cannot use Juno Lethe as a hideaway anymore," Harry explained. "You're going to be teaching Alchemy in the same form you used for Defense Against the Dark Arts when I was a First Year…that way, everyone knows who you _really _are."

"Fine," Lethe said, shifting back. Quirrell then outstretched his right arm, shook hands with Harry, then said, "You've got a deal."

"And if you ever give off the air that you're heading back to Voldemort," Harry added, "I won't hesitate to report you. Do you comprehend?"

"I understand," Quirrell answered, and then turned to the Aurors. "Undo the handcuffs."

"Sure thing," Tonks hissed sarcastically, "your Majesty." She grudgingly undid the cuffs, but then smiled at Harry. "You're more noble than I thought. If I were you, I'd have let that freak rot in Azkaban for what he did."

"He's got a weak will," Harry said, folding his arms. "It's not his fault that he's easily-influenced." He could see the tips of Quirrell's ears sticking up from that sandy hair…and they were turning red. "Er…Professor, I guess I'll see you in Alchemy?"

"Yeah, sure," Quirrell said, turning to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, can I keep my position?"

"Sure," Dumbledore agreed nicely, and then added, "but we will have you under the strictest supervision for the remainder of the school year."

"I'm not going to complain," Quirrell admitted. "Anything is better than Azkaban." With that, he walked off the auditorium stage and joined the rest of the faculty. Most of them scooted away, save Aurelius (who had no idea who Quirrell was, anyway) and Furrier (who was too comfortable to even bother to budge).

"There is another announcement," Dumbledore said, a tone of sorrow somewhere in his voice. "As we all have known for a bit over a week now, the gorgonix has been hunted down and destroyed, thanks to the courage of our own Professor Fallowin, the quick wit of Miss Hermione Granger, and the power of all of Professor Fallowin's Exorcism class."

"AND SARGON!" Darius shouted.

"Thank you for reminding me, Darius," Dumbledore sighed. "And we lost Sargon Von Dorian to the creature, and he lost his last life to save the life of the poor fellow who was the Carrier. Everyone in Professor Fallowin's Exorcism class will receive ten points added to his or her house _per student_."

"Thank you!" the Third-through-Seventh Years shouted in unison, each delighted to have more points.

"Now, there is some bad news," Dumbledore admitted, "and that is why I give this out with a heavy heart. Our gorgonix-hunting experts—Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, Professor Ebonyste, and Mitzi Nezura—have looked back over the photographs Professor Ebonyste had taken of each and every victim when discovered. Not all of them were a bloody, gory mess, as is the case with a gorgonix kill. Some were rather clean kills, actually." Dumbledore looked very heavy-hearted by this point, and put his hands up to his forehead. "I can't finish this…I'll let Dr. Hemlock take over from here."

"Thanks, Headmaster," Dr. Hemlock said as she started marching up to the stage's pedestal. "I have been reviewing the murders that have been taking place here, and looked over the photographs and reports Nezura and Ebonyste have been keeping. It has come to my attention, everyone, that the Ministry of Magic has issued a cover-up in what has _really_ happened here!"

Whatever chatter was coming from the auditorium seats was immediately replaced with silence. "Let us not celebrate and put our guard down, ladies and gents! Something _else_ is still in the castle; we were wrong to blame it all on the gorgonix!" She pointed a finger at Tonks, Moody, and Shacklebolt (as well as the other Aurors). "The discovery of Quirrell's return was a good one, but if any of you know a bit about gorgonixes, you'd have noticed that only twenty-five percent of the killings this year were bloody and mutilated. I think in an effort to wrap things up, you decided to blame it all on that bloody demon and get it over with!"

"Not true!" Shacklebolt shouted. "A Dark Witch like yourself—"

"Me? A Dark Witch?" Dr. Hemlock blurted, and began to laugh. "No, not me, sir. I write about the Dark Arts, but I don't practice them except to conduct research!"

"You wouldn't understand gorgonixes, Dr. Hemlock," Tonks said, "would you? You didn't take a Demonology course at a University."

"I study independently," Dr. Hemlock retorted, beginning to get into a spat with the Aurors. "If any of you ever did so much as picked up one of my books, you would know that I study my topics in a freelance style, getting as much out of my studies as possible. A classroom cannot always offer that." She started to glare at Tonks and said, "After reading in The Daily Prophet about the deaths at Hogwarts, I started studying up on my Demonology…focusing especially on gorgonixes."

"So what?" Tonks responded rashly. Harry could tell that the Aurors were getting annoyed with Dr. Hemlock, and vice versa.

"I will not be dumb enough to shout out that there was no gorgonix," Dr. Hemlock said flatly, "but I will be brave enough to question the authorities and say that the gorgonix only did a fourth of the work and got most of the attention because it was the only thing clues led up to! How do you explain the other seventy-five percent of deaths this year? It's clear that a gorgonix didn't do it."

"I just wanted you to tell them what I told you and the rest of the staff earlier today, Iphigenia," Dumbledore said from the crowd.

"The gorgonix has been stopped, but the deaths are still climbing," Dr. Hemlock said, "and I hate to admit it was four Third Years who were running out of their dormitories late at night…Professor Ahsimal and the Headmaster found them early this morning. The parents have been informed of the deaths of their sons by now, courtesy of Mr. Filch." She then pulled out her wand and began to write with it…letters that looked like they were made out of will o' the wisp. "Do you want to know what I think is responsible? This is something ALL my Defense Against the Dark Arts students—Years One to Seven; I meant it!—will be covering before school ends."

"Are you insane?" Moody questioned. "The report that Mitzi Nezura sent to the Ministry said clearly that the gorgonix was responsible for all the killings, save for those of Wolfgang Leir and Icarus Parenein."

"And you believe that report, just because the little ball of fluff says so, Mad-Eye?" Dr. Hemlock responded quickly. "Mitzi's not the best Auror in Britain, you know."

"You're not an Auror at all, Doctor," Moody pointed out. "Now, pray tell, what do you think is responsible for the deaths if it wasn't the gorgonix?"

"Another demon that can shift into other people and creatures perfectly, but it doesn't need a host and is not even in the same genus as gorgonixes," Dr. Hemlock said, turning around to face her audience once more. Harry took one look at what the teacher had written with her wand and couldn't help but think he'd heard that word somewhere before. Just as he was reading it, Dr. Hemlock said it out loud to Moody, the Aurors, and everyone sitting in the seats, "Doppelganger!"

"And why should be believe you?" hissed Tonks.

"She's got a good point," Moody said, tapping his right foot. "With the way the others were dying, it could _easily_ be one. I'm only surprised that _I_ didn't think a doppelganger could be out here earlier!" He went up to the pedestal and patted Dr. Hemlock on the back. "Well done, Doctor." Dr. Hemlock walked back into the crowd and let Moody start talking at the pedestal. "Now, I think it might be necessary to have more Aurors here in the school than just Mitzi."

"I can handle it myself!" Nezura shouted from the back. Harry turned around to see the little woman jumping up and down, just so people could see her.

"It's obvious to me that you can't, otherwise you'd have found out not only who had the gorgonix, but where the doppelganger is!" Moody did not look very impressed with how Nezura had been running things by herself. "No, Mitzi; you've already proven that you need help on this…so I'm going to be coming here with five of my friends to help make sure the damn thing doesn't attack any students, teachers, house elves, or any of Hagrid's magical creatures."

"Thanks fer mentioning 'em!" Hagrid cheered. "They matter too!"

"With everything taken care of," Dumbledore said, beginning to sound a bit tired, "I think we can return to our regular schedule…classes are dismissed for the rest of the day, everyone, since I'm pretty sure nobody is going to be able to learn or teach today, after all the action we've had in here."

"I dare say so," Quirrell agreed, but shut up right away when Dumbledore (as well as several other faculty members) gave him a rather nasty look.

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For the rest of the day, Harry sat around the Quidditch Field with Ron and Hermione, watching Cassandra duel Neville. "Come on, Longbottom!" Cassandra shouted. "If you want to fight the Lestranges and come out alive, you'd got to at _least_ knock me into unconsciousness!"

"Yeah, but you've been to Azkaban," Neville pointed out, "and you know a lot more about the Dark Arts than I do."

"It's not a blessing," Cassandra admitted, putting down her wand, "but it has come in handy. How about we stop Dueling and I show you which spell I used to kill Professor Parenein? I bet it'd work on Bellatrix _or_ Rudolph us."

"What was it?" Neville asked. Fear was obviously in his eyes as he looked upon the Slytherin girl. It was clear that he realized that Cassandra had _really_ killed a man, be it to save Harry or not.

"The Asphyxiation Charm," Cassandra said, grinning menacingly. "The incantation was '_Corpsus Malidicitus,_' and your victim will choke on his or her own tongue until Death mercifully arrives."

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't want to be a Death Eater with knowledge like that," Ron declared. "You've got quite an omnibus of really scary spells memorized by heart."

"I never felt the desire to be a Death Eater," Cassandra said. "I am my own master, and that's how I always want it to be."

"That's nice to know," Harry said, putting another couple of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans in his mouth. "If you even gave me the idea that you were leaning toward becoming a Death Eater, I'd be running for cover."

"Why?" Cassandra asked, a smirk appearing on her face. "Those Death Eaters you got past last year knew more Black Magic than I do now."

"You'd never know it," Hermione said, "by the way some of them act. You see, you know how to use it…well, too. Besides, you have easier access to Harry than the Death Eaters do."

Cassandra got off the grassy floor of the Quidditch Field and sat on the bench with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Neville soon joined her. "You know, maybe we should be heading in soon."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron said. "It's going to rain in a few minutes. Just look at those storm clouds!"

"Would anyone like to do something dangerous?" Cassandra asked, a wicked grin replacing the already not-so-innocent-looking smirk.

"Are you suggesting we group together and hunt for the doppelganger Dr. Hemlock mentioned!?" Neville didn't sound thrilled with that idea.

"That's another good idea," Cassandra said, still grinning, "but I was just about to point out the fact that it's a full moon. Professor Fenrir's a werewolf, and will be going through his monthly cycle tonight…why don't we spy on him?"

Neville didn't seem quite as afraid of a werewolf as a doppelganger, but still not thrilled by Cassandra's enthusiasm. "I don't think that's a good idea," he admitted. "Wouldn't it be safer to spy on Professor Lupin, since he takes a special Potion to calm down?"

"Yeah!" Cassandra said, looking about as excited as a child on her birthday. "I've never gotten to see a werewolf in person…up close! I mean, when they've shifted!"

"Trust me," Harry said, letting out a heavy sigh as Cassandra and Neville started looking rather excited about the prospect of spying on poor Remus. "It's not all that great."

"He's right," Hermione said. "It really isn't all that amazing. Let's go eat dinner instead."

"Oh, alright," Cassandra said, looking a bit disappointed, but not sulky. "Food's always a nice alternative."

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_Hello everyone! Here's another chapter to satisfy my fellow Nemesarists! This chapter doesn't have much action, but there will be a lot of action to come in the following chapters. This is chapter 43, which means we only have 7 more until the end! _

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and thanks to all who have read this story. I do appreciate it, and even tho I can't answer your questions personally, please know that my friend, Nita, will be happy to answer them for you. Just email her, her ff ID is NitaPotter._

_Take care everyone, I'll see you next time. Professor Mortimer Skylarke_


	45. Chapter 44

Chapter Forty-Four:

Dr. Hemlock's Final Warning

The rest of April passed by rather quickly, and May was coming to a close. Besides a death occasionally popping up once a week, the days had been rather uneventful. The only thing that had been bothering the students was the inevitable promise of exams…and more than ever. With the number of classes available and required skyrocketing in comparison to any of the previous years Harry had been there, the number of exams which had to be taken had almost doubled in number. While it was usually only going to be Divination, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Transfiguration, Astronomy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Charms, and Herbology, there was also going to be Alchemy, Phobomancy, Advanced Astrology, Necromancy, Exorcism, Clairvoyancy, Curses & Rootwork, Manipulations (although that class had discontinued), Animagery (same as Manipulations), and Foreign Magic exams to take.

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"_Don't study all of them at once_; _or, if you're really good with Clairvoyancy, just keep the textbook on your desk while taking the exam, and continue to touch it when you get stuck; don't study, then! That's what I did, and that's why I graduated with the highest Grade-Point Average of my class, making me Valedictorian_. _But_ _don't tell ol' Skippy I did that! But I am warning all of you; if I catch you doing what I just told you on my Foreign Magic exam, I'll give you a 'T'._"

"_Well, I seriously hope all of you have been paying attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts, since you have had a lot of disruption in this class. I hope Mitzi Nezura was a good teacher, and that Severus Snape was a good long-term substitute until I came along. Now, I know I taught all of you well, so let it reflect, okay? The test is going to be different this year…I will be asking about everything from blocking spells to how to kill doppelgangers. I can also guarantee you that you should get used to getting Exams like this in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and tell your younger siblings to get used to it, too; I plan to be teaching here until I fall over and die. But, anyway, a quick review over what Mitzi and Severus covered should suffice, since I think we covered everything so well, it stuck. Remember…learn your lesson well the first time._"

"_I wouldn't study for the Clairvoyancy Exam_. _Just be glad that you don't have to take Tarot and Demonology anymore. Those classes were not only horrid, but difficult. Cynthia Lynches, the Tarot teacher, ugh…that woman was the worst teacher I ever had_."

"_You're all worried about exams? I think the only ones you might have trouble with are Phobomancy, Transfiguration, Potions, and Necromancy…unless I've marked you as a good student in Necromancy here. If that's the case, then don't give this any more thought_."

"_There is need to worry about the C.A.T.! I know it stands for Cruel Alchemy Test, but it's probably only a little more difficult than the pop quizzes I've been giving you since I got this position. Don't even bother studying for my class final if you have an 'E' or better. Focus your attention on something hard like_ _Necromancy. Ahsimal is notorious for giving out hard exams._"

"_Aw…don't tell me my Phobomancy Exam is scaring you! In my opinion, it's painstakingly easy, but I'm sure that most of you nincompoops will _still_ fail it, just to spite me. Go ahead and study, and I am encouraging you to do that…if you don't do so hot on the final, I am not going to be very happy with you, Sixth Years. Potter, I expect you and Snape to do well._"

"_The Transfiguration Exam will be just as hard as it is every year. With that in mind, class, do what you always do…unless what you usually do hasn't been working well._"

"_In my opinion, Exams are just a lot of codswallop. I don't see why I need to give yer all a stinkin' Exam, but rules are rules. Don't ya worry, Harry…the Care fer Magical Creatures final isn't going ter be hard at all…it'll be mostly the Griffin Care unit fer the final. Oh, speaking of griffins…Godric wants another visit._"

"_You've __**got**__ to be joking! Who told you morons I was giving out a __**Multiple Choice Potions Exam**__ this year? It's a lie, alright? You are all to write me an essay before the Exam period is over and you all go off for Herbology, and it will be about the Rejuvenation Tonic, and why hematite plays such a big role in its making. I urge you to study long and hard if you even expect to pass this…especially for you Gryffindors._"

"_Yes, I am aware that Animagery and Manipulations were discontinued before March even came to a close. It doesn't mean you're going to escape taking Cumulative Review Multiple Choice Exams on those two subjects. Mr. Filch and I, your loyal Dueling Tutor, will be administering these two tests for you, so I suggest you freshen up your knowledge of animal transfiguration—since that is really all that Animagery is—and Manipulations so you're familiar with the material. Enjoy the rest of the school year, though! I'll try to talk the Headmaster into throwing us an end-of-the-year bacchanal in the Great Hall or something just as fun…well…study and be merry!_"

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The multitudes of comments from the teachers swam through Harry's mind as he sat there in the library, reviewing the differences between Carmella and Dracula for History of Magic. It was almost three in the morning, a Saturday in very late May. It was raining outside, but for some odd reason, Madame Pince had left a window in the Restricted Section open. Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna and Ron had already dozed off, and Cassandra had left the study group a few minutes after they fell asleep, and began to go up to Turret Fifteen for a Nemesarium meeting. Harry was the only student still awake in the library, but there was someone else he was aware of in there; Wormtail was sitting on his shoulder, chewing on an old chocolate biscuit.

"Do you mind?" Harry hissed, brushing the rat Animagus off. "I'm trying to finish reviewing this unit before I go to sleep." Wormtail squeaked and scurried out after that, leaving Harry awake with minimal distractions, save Ron's sleep-talk about flying spiders.

The history about Vlad the Impaler as the real Dracula was interesting, but Harry couldn't help the fact that his eyelids were beginning to get heavy. He scrambled in his pocket for a few orange or tangerine Mood Drops but only found seven blue ones.

"I don't feel like getting depressed," he muttered as he put them back in his pocket. '_Now,_' he thought, '_I just need to finish this unit, and then I can go to sleep for a few hours._' He wasn't quite sure _why_ he was studying for his Exams; he hardly ever did that before…there just seemed to be some other motivation involved. He knew he wanted to do well in a majority of his classes because he wanted to be accepted into the Auror's Academy after graduating from Hogwarts. Some of the others, like Phobomancy, he wanted to do well because he wanted to know how to beat it. But there was one class he wanted to especially pass…Necromancy. It was for a totally non-academic reason, too; he wanted to know all the ways of Necromancy before leaving Hogwarts because he really did admire that field of magic.

"Are you alright?" asked Celia, coming into the library with Josh and Atticus (long since back from his suspension). All three of them had dark rings under their eyes to show how tired (or drugged up on orange Mood Drops) they were. "Harry, you look like you're about to pass out."

"I am," Harry admitted, feeling very sleepy. "I wanted to finish looking over Vlad the Impaler and then I want to get a little rest."

"Good idea," Atticus agreed. "That's a _very_ good idea…Celia, Josh, and I am up studying for our Potions final tonight."

"Potions," Harry said, sighing. "Right…that's a bit later for me." He looked up at the ceiling and noticed just _how_ much penciled graffiti was up there. It was rather unappealing to look at, but he could see all sorts of funny inscriptions there. Had he been more awake, it wouldn't be so entertaining. However, he was about to doze off like his friends, and his mind was doing some rather weird things. It made him feel like he was an Egyptologist reading the inscriptions of an old pharaoh's sarcophagus…although the only words he could make out clearly on there were "**Want a good time? Go bother Professor Lewn,**" "**Cassius Cantarus wears briefs!**" and "**Don Ebonyste was here, 1974**."

"What's so interesting about the ceiling, Harry?" Josh asked, looking up. "It's just student graffiti. See? I wrote my name right _there_."

"I really _must_ be tired," Harry exclaimed. "I don't know why I keep looking up there."

"It's because you're already half-asleep," explained Celia. "Harry, maybe you should go back to the Gryffindor Tower and get some shut-eye." Harry indeed got up, and Celia started ushering him to the door. "See you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest."

Harry walked out, and watched as Josh closed the door. He thought nothing of it as he walked the long way back to the Sixth Year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. The staircase seemed rather long in comparison to usual, but it was only because Harry was sleepy. He got all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, but something then woke him up immediately, out of shock. There was a rather large and fresh puddle of blood right underneath the picture…and it was a rather disgusting sight. The smell was strongly in the air, and not a single bit of it had dried or browned-over yet. "Gross…" he muttered to himself, but found himself curious enough to try to touch it. Then, out of nowhere, another person arrived at the location. "Darius," Harry started as he looked up to see the vampire had a small stream of blood dripping from the left side of his mouth. "This was your work?"

"Yeah, but I'm usually a bit more tidy," Darius admitted, wiping the blood off his jaw. "I couldn't help it, Harry. You see, I am in the middle of Bloodlust at the moment, and that makes me very dangerous to encounter alone. It's not that I'm evil…it's that I've been deprived of good blood for so long that I have to bite something to stop the madness."

"It's apparent you bit _something_," Harry pointed at the puddle. "Who was it?"

"Want to know?" Darius asked.

"Yes."

"Do you _really_ want to know?"

"YES!"

"Okay," Darius said, licking his pale lips. "I'll tell you. It was Severus, and only because I was _that_ hungry. Nobody else was around, and we were all leaving from our meeting in Morty's classroom. It was very hard to get _his_ neck, and it was such an unpleasant experience…I never _ever _want to bite him again!"

"So…that's Snape's blood at my feet?" asked Harry, pointing at the puddle again.

"Yes, it is," Darius said flatly. "But he's alright now…we took him to the Infirmary, and although Poppy had already gone to sleep, we could easily access the ace bandages."

"You mean he's going to be able to bother everyone this weekend like he usually does?" Harry wasn't thrilled by that news, but then another question popped into his head. "Did it hurt him when you took that bite?"

"Looking at all that blood there, and considering the fact that he didn't voluntarily give it," Darius started, "by what you learned about vampires from Professor Lupin three years ago, do you _think_ that little bite of mine hurt your Potions Master or not?"

"It did, right?" Harry asked, and grinned when Darius nodded. "Good."

"Why is the pain of another person a good thing?" Darius retorted. "Just because the two of you aren't necessarily the best of friends, you wish an unpleasant experience on the other? I only do that to life-threatening foes." The vampire folded his arms and said, "Sargon has moved on in the Death Realm, so I'll move on here and relive my days as a Bachelor." A wide, sparkling smile was on the Necromancer's charmingly androgynous face as he finished up. "Good night, Harry; I hope you sleep well, and I'll see you at breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, waving to his friend and Hawkbane. "See you at breakfast." He then went up to the Fat Lady and said, "Slytherin Sucks."

"Oh, yes…this semester's password," the Fat Lady responded, and let Harry through.

Poor Harry didn't even make it to the boys' dormitory; he collapsed on the closest piece of furniture in the Common Room and fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.

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"I'm personally afraid of Fenrir's exam," Hermione said at breakfast, taking a bite out of her poppy seed muffin. "He's a difficult person and makes the class much harder than it has to be…so something tells me he can be just as bad as Snape when it comes to finals. I can memorize the facts and do the incantations, but that class gives me the shivers."

"He's not so bad," Cassandra proclaimed as she took a nice big bite out of her cinnamon-apple bagel. "I don't see why all of you are so terrified of him. He's a bit rowdy, but he really isn't the diabolical demon-child you all portray him to be."

"Er…Cassandra?" Harry interrupted, determined to change the conversation to something else so he could figure this certain little problem out.

"Yes, Harry?" Cassandra asked, putting down her goblet of pomegranate juice.

"I think all the Gryffindors can back me up on this," Harry began. "There was this large puddle of blood right by the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, and it turned out Darius bit your uncle on the neck when they were returning from going to see Morty."

"Yeah," Cassandra said. "I was there, and it was clear Darius was in Bloodlust; all of us in the group knew that it would only be a matter of time that night before he bit someone unlucky enough to get within a three-foot radius of him. So, it was my uncle?"

"Yes," Harry said, "or at least, that's what Darius told me. Cassandra, how long will it be before you get into Bloodlust?"

"I have no idea," Cassandra admitted, "but I'm sure it will occur before I graduate from my Seventh Year. The last serious Bloodlust I had—one I couldn't control—was when I was six. I think I had about five minor ones this year, but although any Bloodlust is serious, these I could handle just fine with a little trip to the blood bank Madame Pomfrey keeps for Darius, me, and Professor Quirrell."

"How come you guys can't control a severe Bloodlust?" asked Ron.

"That's like asking a werewolf why he can't control when he turns into a wolf-like creature," Cassandra said. "Your mind shuts down all parts, save the anima, and the anima focuses only on truly beast-like qualities…for some humans, that is a sexual part of the mind. For us vampires, that would be another part of the mind; the anima, for us, is our predatory psyche, which longs to be quenched by fresh human blood." She sipped some more of her pomegranate juice and then said, "You're not going to believe what I caught Malfoy doing last night once I got back from my meeting."

"What was that pointy-chinned git up to_ this _time?" Ginny grumbled.

"He was out at the corner of the Forbidden Forest with Goyle, Crabbe, Cantarus, and Fallowin. They had fishing poles with them, too, and candy canes were dangling from strings at the end. They kept reeling the candy in, and I was wondering what they were doing." Cassandra paused to take another sip of her drink, and then continued her tale. "I didn't interrupt them, just in case they were doing something really stupid; I hate getting involved with tomfoolery. However, I then remembered what Hagrid said about luring nymphs, and there being wild nymphs out in the woods…so it was then that I realized what our fickle friends were doing out there. They knew the End of Course Ball is coming up in a few weeks, and they wanted to see if they could get hot dates in a very cheap way…bribery with peppermint."

"Are you serious?!" Harry said, bursting out in laughter with the rest of the group. "That's a lot better than me having to talk to Darius while he was in Bloodlust!"

"Isn't it, though?" Cassandra sniggered a bit as well, the smirk on her face. "Anyway, they continued to be idiots out there, fishing in the woods for wild nymphs…and then Fallowin gets one. Then Malfoy soon follows; then Crabbe, Goyle, and finally Cantarus. Five nymphs, caught with old candy canes from Christmas in their mouths, appeared at the ends of the fishing poles. You should've seen the grins on their foolish faces."

"I wish I could have," Ron said, laughing. "Date-fishing…I should've thought of that."

"Don't you remember what Hagrid had to say about that?" Hermione snapped. "He said that bad and wild nymphs are both very brutal and can tear a person limb from limb in a matter of seconds…unless they decide to freeze you first with a little kiss."

"The nymphs attacked after the boys tried to get the candy out of their mouths," Cassandra continued, and then pointed at Malfoy and his cronies; all of which—save Pansy—were covered in bruises, cuts, bandages, and scabs. "I couldn't help but go back to the Slytherin Tower howling with laughter."

"That's funny," Luna said, smiling a bit as well. "I wish I could have seen that; nymphs are interesting."

"I agree," Ron said. "They're hot, too!"

"Not really," Harry said. "They're cool, but I don't think they're hot. Sexy, yes. Hot, no."

Ron explained, "I meant 'hot' like 'sexy'."

Harry laughed at that. "Yeah, I know. I was just joking with you."

"And here I was, just studying for my Potions final," Neville said, smiling weakly. "While you guys are having fun, apparently, too…"

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Saturday and Sunday were both nice, but Monday was quite welcome (unlike most Mondays) since Defense Against the Dark Arts was the final class of the day. Dr. Hemlock had garlic, dog roses, poppy flowers, monkshood, and lemongrass drying by her windows, and there was a small mist fountain in the corner which changed colors every thirty seconds. A large pile of papers had collected on the left side of her desk, but the other part was an even higher tower of textbooks.

"Hello, everyone," she said flatly as the last person came into the class. "Just let me finish up this last piece of fan-mail response, and I'll be more than ready to teach you something I have been eager to show you for about a month now."

"Doppelgangers, Professor?" asked Hermione. "Is that what you want to discuss?"

"Yes," Dr. Hemlock said, "because we have already covered the whole textbook _except that_. It's our last unit, actually, so I want to teach you about doppelgangers for your own safety, and then I'll be focusing on real-life Defense Against the Dark Arts scenarios to help you guys out. You know you'll never know when a real-life application will be necessary. I'm doing what the textbook says I should be doing…preparing you for what's surely coming."

She finished up her last line on the piece of mail and sighed. "Okay, now that _that_ is over, I can focus on you fine students." She pulled out her wand and said, "Turn to page 832 in your textbook. You will see that doppelgangers are the last thing we'll be covering in this book."

"Yes, Professor Hemlock," said the class in unison. Harry took one look at the illustration of the doppelganger and shivered…it was like the human was looking through a mirror, but without the glass.

"I'm going to put these notes on the board for you," Dr. Hemlock said. "Copy them, and when you're done, tell me; we'll be having an open discussion for a while after reading and copying notes are over." With that, she wrote on the board:

_**Doppelganger, Exposed**_

**Clarify the Myths, Unveil the Truth, and Prepare the Innocent**

**(Excerpts from my book: ****Nightmarish Duplicate: The Doppelganger**

_**Q: How the Bloody Hell Do You Find One?**_

_**A: **__Sometimes it is hard to locate the bloody creature, but don't go searching someone you know to be a human. Doppelgangers may be demonic, but they don't need to possess people to get what they want. They like to hide in dark, and usually deserted places…or a large space where there are lots of places to hide. The bigger and darker the place, the more likely you will be to find a true doppelganger. Also, they are allergic to lavender._

_**Q: Is there any way to protect myself?**_

_**A:**__ Actually, yes, there is. If you stay in small, bright, or crowded areas, the chances of doppelgangers being near you can drop nearly eighty percent. It's not a sure-fire way to be out of the presence of one, but it is a safe move. If you find yourself brave enough to go doppelganger hunting, I strongly urge you to go in groups, even if you aren't necessarily a "people person." To hunt for one of these alone is perhaps one of the most foolish things to do…period._

_**Q: What do they look like?**_

_**A:**__ That is a difficult question to answer, since the appearance of a doppelganger shifts each time it decides to take on the form of another person. It is said to have the form of a skeleton when it isn't copying somebody, but that is just an Albanian myth. But be careful when coming into contact with doppelgangers (I cannot emphasize enough how important safety is around these things) because if it turns into you, and you gaze upon it…you will always die._

_**Q: Where do they come from?**_

_**A:**__ Demonologists believe that doppelgangers originated in Germany back around 400 A.D., and that they are somehow related to the German vampires who devour two people at a time. This is also untrue, since vampires and demons aren't even related. Demons are beings all by themselves and neither should be taken lightly. While a gorgonix is much bigger, and hellions are more manipulative, doppelgangers are perhaps the most elusive demons known to us at this time._

_**Q: Do Slayers target doppelgangers?**_

_**A:**__ Only if they can find them, which is a rather rare instance. Most Slayers have hard times with __**vampires**__, so finding a doppelganger is usually way out of their league, unless Slaying is their primary job, as it was for the famous __**Abraham Van Helsing**__, or for __**Julius Cantarus.**__ Slayers tend to leave demons alone, and target other beings we consider to be "dark" and "evil." It is usually the Exorcist or the Auror who will want to hunt down demons…primarily Exorcists._

_**Q: Are they nocturnal creatures?**_

_**A: **__They do not sleep, eat, or drink except when they feed upon the flesh of humans. While it is common practice to label all demons as "creatures of the night", it is totally inaccurate. In fact, most of the demons we know about at this time can live out in the daylight just as easily as we can. Stereotypes of the Middle Ages, while a good idea to read and study for basic ideas about demons, shouldn't be taken as the indisputable truth._

_**Q: If I run across a doppelganger, what do I do?**_

_**A:**__ There are several options, but perhaps the most appealing is to run away and go find an Exorcist. If an Exorcist is nowhere near you, you'll have to protect yourself by using a salt circle or the Shielding Spell. If those ideas don't work and are only a waste of time, defend yourself as best you can. There are several spells the professionals use to vanquish these things, but be on the lookout, and whatever you do…don't look at it._

_**Q: What are some of the spells that can get rid of a doppelganger?**_

_**A:**__ First off, shield yourself. Then, any spell you can think of should work on it, but the Asphyxiation Charm and any other spell that inevitably ends in Death or serious pain is the best bet in being able to defeat the creature. Pay close attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Curses & Rootwork, and get involved with a bit of Demonology independent study for further ideas. That's what I did._

_**Q: Is there any sure-fire way to kill this thing quickly?**_

_**A:**__ As a matter of fact, there is. Any Death Curse which works on a person also works on a demon, whether it's a hellion, gorgonix, doppelganger, or any other form. If the thought of using an incantation that may prove to someday be illegal doesn't sound appealing to you, I strongly would urge you to learn the Patronus Charm and learn how to conjure up a strong Patronus. The more Patronus, the sooner the damn thing dies, never to return._

"Professor Hemlock?" Hermione raised her hand. "I'm done copying my notes."

"Good for you, Miss Granger," Dr. Hemlock replied, not even looking up from her latest book. "Is there anyone else who has finished?"

"I have," Cassandra said, sprawling out at her desk. "Do I just sit here and wait for everyone else to—"

"I'm finished too," Harry interrupted.

"Okay," Dr. Hemlock said, sighing. "If three of you are finished, I'll begin the real lesson." She got up and pulled out her wand. "After reading what your textbook had to say about doppelgangers, and what I've gathered from my _own_ research, I can present this class with a high-level crash-course on these things So, can any of you tell me what these demons do?"

"They mimic people," Hermione blurted, not raising her hand. Dr. Hemlock didn't care. "And they are even more perfect at transformation than gorgonixes are."

"Great words," Dr. Hemlock said, turning to Hermione. "They can sound like the victim, too, so don't be fooled. Remember the man-eating creature we covered _last_ time that used the voice of a wailing baby to lure its prey? This thing is even more convincing."

"Then how do we find out where one is?" Malfoy asked, and pointed at the book. "There are no tell-tale signs like with gorgonixes."

"There are indications for people possessed by gorgonixes—such as the glowing eyes, mood swings, and moments of severe eccentricity—but we _still_ spent a lot of time trying to figure out _who_ it was, now didn't we?" Dr. Hemlock said, making everyone—including herself—feel rather unhappy for a few seconds. "If it is _that_ hard to track down a gorgonix, imagine something even more difficult…a being where the only thing that gives itself away is out-of-character habits!"

"People possessed by doppelgangers have no clear symptoms, then?" Neville asked.

"Doppelgangers don't possess people," Dr. Hemlock responded, taking in a big puff of smoke from her clove cigarette. "They only copy and kill them, then steal their identities for a brief period of time, until someone more appealing catches the demon's interest." She shivered and said, "You have no idea how long it took me to figure out that most of the killings were done by a doppelganger rather than a gorgonix."

"Months," Seamus and Dean blurted.

"Exactly," Dr. Hemlock said, nodding her head and smoking some more. "Now, I _know_ that I am not that great with Transfiguration, and am definitely not a Metamorphmagus, but we all know someone who is…one of the Aurors who has been safeguarding this school for the past month or so. That is why Nymphadora—"

"I prefer to be called _Tonks_, thanks," Tonks interrupted.

"Okay," Dr. Hemlock said, "that is why _Tonks_ is here in our classroom. She has graciously agreed to help me out with today's lesson."

"Since the _real_ doppelganger hasn't been caught yet," Tonks began, "and since I can Transfigure into any person I want, I'll be playing the role of a doppelganger in today's lesson." She caught a whiff of the professor's cigarette and coughed a little, but smiled. It was clear that the fire had died down between Tonks and Dr. Hemlock, although they weren't necessarily friends. "It was Dr. Hemlock's idea."

"Now, I must warn all of you," Dr. Hemlock said, stretching out her arms to make herself look a bit more powerful in front of the students. "Tonks is a much better Auror than Mitzi, and a lot tougher, too. There shall be no Death Curses or anything of that sort when she comes to attack." She looked at the students and said, "Remember, this game's only purpose is to prepare you for an encounter with a real doppelganger, so you'll know what to do. The rules are simple."

"We're playing a _game_?" Hermione didn't sound too thrilled. "I thought this was going to be an important lesson, Professor!"

"Oh, it is," Dr. Hemlock said, "but sometimes lectures aren't enough. This will enforce everything we've been covering about protection charms. Besides, I thought this would be a more-than-welcome change from the mundane note-taking."

"What are the rules?" asked Harry.

"We're all going out of the classroom to the Labyrinth," Dr. Hemlock began, "and all of you are going to stay in the group with me, except for one or two of you at a time. I have tied black ribbons around the border podiums of the game boundaries. Never go past them except once your round is over. The chosen student or students will go inside the black-ribbon area with nothing but their wand and whatever's in their pockets for protection. Tonks will be role-playing as a doppelganger and will shift into her challenger if provoked. If you look her in the eyes, the round is over, and you'll come back to the group and someone else will go. No Death Curses and Pain-Bringing Charms shall be used unless Tonks uses one first. She'll pop out of anywhere, so be on the lookout, but try _not _to look at her. Those are the rules, so now we need our first challenger." Cassandra raised her hand, looking rather eager to go in there. Harry wanted to give it a try, too, but he didn't want to be first. "Alright, then, Snape; you're going in there first."

"Great," Cassandra said, clutching her wand tightly in her left hand, and patting her pocket.

"We can watch her, but she has to pretend that we're not here," Dr. Hemlock said. "Observe and pretend to be statues, everyone."

With that, Cassandra walked into the black-ribbon area and pulled a compact mirror out of a front jeans pocket. She opened it up and let the mirror scan the area, and then she let out a sigh of exasperation; showing that she had no idea where Tonks was hiding. "Hello?" she called out, her eyes darting about daringly. "I know you're in here."

"Yes, I'm in here," Tonks replied, sounding just like Cassandra.

"I'm assuming you look like me right now," Cassandra said, shutting her eyes. She flailed her arms about, as if she were truly blind, and then grabbed the end of Tonks's robe. "Got you, didn't I?"

"Well, remember, doppelgangers don't pause; they fight tooth and nail," Tonks replied.

"Oh, I remember," Cassandra responded, and then poked Tonks with her wand and loudly said, "_Diminisha_." Tonks turned into a glowing blue vapor, and Cassandra opened her eyes. "Mum made me study Demonology over the summer; I know that spell destroys doppelgangers and other non-possessive demons. So, I believe my round is over."

"Brilliant, Miss Snape!" Dr. Hemlock cheered, and then pointed her wand at Tonks and said, "_Reparro._" Tonks returned to her normal state. "Well, I think that Crabbe and Goyle should work as a team to get past Tonks for the next round."

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The class went on for nearly an hour over the schedule, but none of the students minded. Most of the people who went into the game's boundaries came back without any success in getting past Tonks, but a few of them had done rather well. Finally, Harry was last. "Potter, you're up," Dr. Hemlock said, smiling. "Then we can all go eat dinner in the Great Hall."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, walking into the area where several of his fellow classmates had lost to Tonks. He knew that Cassandra may not have been the smartest student, but she was the most experienced with the Dark Arts and anything related…that was _her_ forte; there was hardly any time she'd be unprepared, and today had been just another day. However, Harry knew he didn't carry a compact mirror (or _any_ sort of mirror) in his pockets, nor salt-packets (like Hermione, who had known the topic of the class in advance). He walked into the black-ribbon area and began to look in his pockets…nothing but his wand (which he immediately took out), a pack of Mood Drops, a Luminescence Bar, and a pocketwatch. Suddenly remembering that there was _glass_ on the face of the watch, Harry pulled it out.

"What are you doing?" Tonks asked, sounding just like Harry.

Harry turned around, but then caught sight of Tonks's feet, and noticed that her clothes had also shifted into his. Therefore, he didn't lift his head up until he closed his eyes. "I know you're right there," he said. "Now I've just got to figure out _which direction_ you're in."

"Good luck," Tonks replied, "because I'm walking around, about to attack my prey." She then tackled Harry and said, "If I were a real doppelganger, I'd be killing you right now by draining the life energy right out of you."

"But the people under the grasp can still fight back," Harry argued, wrestling the Auror. Soon, he had _Tonks _tackled.

"Good job," Tonks said, still struggling.

"Thanks. Er…_Evanesca!_" Harry shouted, and watched Tonks disappear.

"_Reparro_," Dr. Hemlock finally said and Tonks returned back to her old self, a little glad the game was over. "Potter, that was quick thinking with that watch; that's a lot more creative than what Miss Snape did."

"But she's always prepared," said Harry.

"Yeah, she is," Dr. Hemlock agreed, "but the _real_ world out there isn't a place where everything can be expected. Maybe she's in the right by studying all that Dark Magic, or she might go bad from the temptation to put all that knowledge into use."

"Er, Professor Hemlock?" Cassandra interrupted, raising her hand. "I have no desire to use my power in that way."

"Of course you don't," Dr. Hemlock said, sounding like she didn't really believe the girl. "Potter, you used what you had with you to track down Tonks. I'm sure not everyone would have thought to use a watch as a mirror. Ten points to Gryffindor." The Gryffindors applauded, and then Dr. Hemlock said, "Yes, yes…good job, Potter…but now I want to eat something. Let's get out of here and sink our teeth into some fresh pot roast, or whatever the house elves cooked for us. I'm famished."

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"That was a rather interesting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson," Cassandra said. "Harry, that was really smart thinking in there."

"Do you always carry a mirror with you?" Hermione asked Cassandra. "I mean, it's not like you can see yourself in it."

"That's a blessing, in my opinion; I don't _want_ to see myself," Cassandra responded. "I always carry one, however, just in case I run across a basilisk, gorgonix, hellion, doppelganger, or Atticus."

There were a few laughs from the table at mentioning their friend in there with the dangerous entities. "I know that I'm probably not going to be in any danger of running across a basilisk, and the chances of any of us seeing another gorgonix in our lifetime are rather remote, but hellions are common."

"But what about doppelgangers?" asked Harry. "Are they fairly common?"

"They're pretty uncommon, but they're not necessarily _rare_," Hermione answered for Cassandra. "There's a chance we'll run into more doppelgangers later on in life, but there's also an almost equal chance we will never run across another one."

"That would be just fine," Ron said. "I'm afraid of that thing, knowing it killed three times as many people as the gorgonix…"

"You should be scared of doppelgangers," Josh said, cutting in with Atticus and Celia.

"They take much longer to kill their victims than gorgonixes do," Atticus said, "and it's much more painful."

"More painful than being torn limb from limb? Is that even _possible_?!" Ron was beginning to look rather scared, even more than he had a few minutes earlier.

"They drain anything good in you out while your body painfully, and slowly, shuts down," Celia said, shivering. "I hope the Aurors find that thing, and _fast_…look how many it's killed!"

"And still counting, no doubt," Josh cynically said. "I thought having Aurors at the school would _help_ the school catch the thing faster. Guess I was wrong."

"I can't believe Malfoy Sr. had the _nerve_ to tell me that he 'knew' I was the one killing people," Atticus grumbled. "And that's why I got suspended. I swear, his family has done insurmountable damage to my family. First my grandfather dies at a Death Eater Raid—actually held _in_ the school—and then my mother disappears, and then I get accused of being the one responsible for the deaths!"

"It's been a tough year for you," Harry said, sighing. "I think it's been tough on all of us, Atticus."

"You know, I thought it was Nezura for a while," Atticus said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean, the killings stopped for quite some time while she was away, and then they all started back with tons of gusto once she returned when the Americans came."

"You weren't here when that happened," Josh said. "You only found out about that because I got a school owl to send you a message. Give me due credit!"

"It couldn't be her," Harry said. "The killings didn't stop while she was away…they just lowered in number."

"Did you know Pansy Parkinson was last week's victim?" Cassandra muttered to the Gryffindors, Celia, and Josh.

"Really?" Harry wasn't too surprised. "I know some of the Slytherins are going to miss her…and they're going to need a new female Prefect for the last month of school."

"Yeah, and another Slytherin Head Girl for next year," Cassandra added. Suddenly, she noticed that the entire dinner crowd was staring at her, and smiling. "What are all of you looking at _me_ for? I don't want to do that!"

"It'd look good on a college application, you know," Harry pointed out. "Don't you want to go to a college that's hard to get into?"

"Yes, I do," Cassandra said, "and my only way of doing that is either by scholarship or generous family donation, which is hardly ever done." She scowled and then added, "but if being Head Girl of Slytherin means I'd have to work with Draco as Head Boy, I'm not going to do it." She looked just about as unhappy as her uncle when she went back to eating her pudding.

"I don't blame her," Harry said. "Who'd want to work with Malfoy?"

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_**Hello everyone! I hope you are enjoying this story! There are only 6 more chapters to go! Please don't forget to review once you've finished reading. I really do want to know what you think. You may certainly tell me what you don't like, but forget the flames. They won't help!**_

_**Take care everyone, and I'll be posting again soon!**_

_**Professor Skylarke**_


	46. Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five:

Pre N.E.W.T.s, T.O.A.D.s, and the C.A.T.

All the preparation was over, and now the week of testing had finally arrived. Several people were worried about this dreadful Monday, but others just accepted their fates quietly that morning, as some of the students sat in the Great Hall, eating their breakfasts. It was porridge today, and not too many people wanted to eat that, so several trips to pester the house elves into something tastier were taken. Cassandra and a number of other students simply put cinnamon and a few other herbs into the mix to make it taste better. Hogwarts food was usually very good, but only a few people actually enjoyed the porridge; most thought it to be about as vile as Skelegro.

"So, what tests are today, Hermione?" Harry asked, unsure of the schedule. "Did you get the schedule?"

"We have four PreN.E.W.T.s today, several T.O.A.D.s later, and the C.A.T. has so many parts, that a section of it will be presented each day this week in Quirrell's class," Hermione answered, and then pulled out the schedule. "Today is History of Magic, Charms, Numerology for me, Divination for you two, Foreign Magic, and part of the C.A.T. right after dinner." She sighed and said, "Then everything is a T.O.A.D.—save the C.A.T.—until the next day."

"What do T.O.A.D. and C.A.T. stand for?" Ron asked. "I'm not familiar with those."

"You're not?" Hermione sounded quite surprised. "Ron, you've had _five_ older brothers take these tests already; even Fred and George did! How could you _not_ know that T.O.A.D. stands for 'Test Of Another Day', and C.A.T. stands for 'Cruel Alchemy Test'?"

"I guess they seem petty compared to N.E.W.T.s, in their eyes," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders and eating the porridge without question. "I don't know."

"Parenein didn't present the C.A.T. to his students," Hermione explained. "But now that we have Quirrell teaching in there—and doing a better job, in my opinion, than he did with Defense Against the Dark Arts—he's insisting we take that particular N.E.W.T. early in the Advanced Course. If we'd been in regular classes, like Crabbe and Goyle, the C.A.T. would simply be a PreN.E.W.T. like the others." She then rolled her eyes and said, "As for the T.O.A.D.s, I think that's just a fancy way of saying we have tests the next day."

"So History of Magic is first?" Cassandra did not look overly thrilled with that news. "I'm going to have to eat several Energy Fizzles or orange Mood Drops to keep awake."

"Energy Fizzles?" Ron repeated. "What's that?"

"They're a type of candy at Honeydukes that do a better job of keeping you awake—but not hyperactive—than Mood Drops do, and they're a lot more affordable." Cassandra grinned as she put four of them in her mouth. "Also, you can take as many as you want, and they're not as sweet as the Drops."

"Are they bitter?" asked Harry.

"They taste like different flavors of tea, and they fizz in your mouth," Cassandra admitted, "so they're a little bitter, but in a very good way." She grinned and added, "And they became very popular with Gilderoy Lockhart years ago when it was discovered that the fizz bubbles whitened teeth and gave you tea-smelling breath for hours. In my opinion, it was just another way for Honeydukes to make these things profitable with an older crowd; how many Third Years would want herbal tea-flavored candies?"

"Not many."

"Right you are, Harry," Cassandra beamed and said. "I will not be sleeping any this week, thanks to my fizzing friends." She lifted up the box and beamed. "So that's more study time, and more time to do other things to help me relax and prepare." When the other students looked at her in a way that clearly showed they wanted to know what she was going to be up to, she explained, "I'm going to be doppelganger hunting in the late nights, because I want that thing out of here before it attacks someone else and makes a kill. You saw how Lewn died, right?"

"Yeah, just like how you predicted," Harry looked impressed. "I'm sure Professor Trelawney is glad you take Divination. She really likes you."

"Oh, I never wanted to take Divination," Cassandra said, "but my first few years here, I did spend my afternoons honing on the Dark Arts or helping out teachers; Trelawney always had something pretty cool to do. Besides, I have to put up with even more Divination from my dad; he's really into it. Also, aren't Astrology, Tarot, and Clairvoyancy enough?"

"There's not a Tarot class at Hogwarts," Aarel blurted, squeezing in at the table. "But watch it; our Headmistress in Salem will _still_ want Shaquan, Jezebel, Serena, and me to take the PreN.E.W.T. for it."

"I'm not going to your school, but I'm taking that exam tomorrow anyway," Cassandra admitted. "I've been having private Tarot tutoring with Furrier."

"Cool," said Ron. "Are you taking Demonology too?"

"Just for the credit," Cassandra said. "I know enough Demonology to take the exam, according to Dr. Hemlock and my uncle. The more exams I take, and the more of them I pass with flying colors, the greater my chances of getting scholarships to better universities."

"Good for you," Aarel said. "College is already taken care of for me…and there's nothing wrong with relaxing and having _fun_ once in a blue moon." He then cuffed Cassandra's shoulder and said, "I'd think you to be nutters if you tell me those tests are amusing to you."

"Well…" Cassandra began, "they _can_ be, if it's something I know well and didn't take a legitimate course in." She grinned and said, "Like Tarot, Demonology, and Necromancy II. I'll be taking Necromancy III and IV next year. So will Blaise and Harry."

"Not me," Blaise said, shivering. "I'm dropping it."

"Harry, you and I are going to be taking Necromancy III and IV together next year, right?" asked Cassandra. "There's no way in Heaven or Hell I'm dropping that course."

"Same here," Harry said, grinning, "but do I have to take the Necromancy II exam?"

"Yes, you do," Darius said, passing by toward the teachers' table. "It's not that bad."

"I've heard that Ahsimal always gives out some of the hardest exams," Aarel whispered. "At least, that's what some of the other Professors have told me and the other Americans." He looked up and rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, Shaquan! What are you doing?!" Shaquan was break-dancing on the floor for some Ravenclaw girls he liked, and there was a lot of applause until Aarel shouted, "YOU LOOK LIKE A CIRCUS FREAK!"

"Do I?" Shaquan got up and scowled at Aarel. "Don't be hatin' on me, yo!"

"I'm not hating on you," Aarel responded, getting up. "I'm just telling you that you look stupid doing that." He looked back at the group he'd been talking to moments earlier and said, "Well, see you later, Cassandra; good luck on the PreN.E.W.T.s and the C.A.T. excerpt!"

"You too," Cassandra replied, "not that you'll really need it. You studied, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Aarel said, looking about, "right."

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Professor Binns simply handed out the exams in his class and set an egg timer on his desk. "You will have an hour and a half to finish your PreN.E.W.T. in this class. May I remind all of you that Divination, Arithmancy, Charms, and Foreign Magic will be having exams today. You have T.O.A.D.s and C.A.T. excerpts until Friday. You may begin."

Harry looked down at his exam and groaned with misery. Some of the questions—such as "What was significant about the Roman holiday Lupercal, and why was it celebrated?"—were rather easy, while some of the others—like "Who was it that said witches were to be burned to the stake?"—were so difficult, Harry omitted them and came back later without any success in writing an answer down. Cassandra seemed to be rushing through it, while Hermione was taking her time and double-checking even the easy questions. Marcus looked like he was having trouble too, but Harry knew there was no way he would admit to it. Another question came across Harry as strange—"Who was the first recorded person possessed by a gorgonix?"—but practical as to why it was asked. Some of the units Professor Binns had covered were obvious as to why they had been presented—for gorgonix understanding and for realizing why some things were the way they had been for centuries, even millennia—but it was all better once that exam was over. Harry just hoped that the other exams would be not only easier, but much more interesting.

"What do we do when we're done, Professor Binns?" Cassandra asked, looking glad it was over.

"You double-check, triple-check, and then turn it in," Binns replied, "after that, you are free to study for any other upcoming exam until class is dismissed."

"I'm finished too," Hermione said, waving her paper. "It's been quadruple-checked, Professor!"

"Then, by all means, Miss Grant, let me have it," Binns said, taking Hermione's paper and then Cassandra's. "I can already tell you, Miss Snape, that you missed one."

"WHAT?!" Cassandra's jaw dropped. "That can't be possible, sir—"

"Why not? All people are fallible," Binns said, tapping his ghostly foot.

"Sir, I stayed up all night studying the Exorcist Council of 1432 and all about Martin Luther!" Cassandra blinked, still looking shocked.

"You didn't miss those," Binns explained, "but you put down the wrong person responsible for starting the War of the Slayers. I thought a young lady such as yourself would know the answer to that one. Maybe you needed to study harder."

"It was Atticus Shadow, right?" Cassandra asked, as soon as the last person put his paper on the desk.

"No," Professor Binns said. "It was Antoninus Shadow X, _the great-grandfather of the first_ Atticus Shadow. The Von Dorian students I have taught over the years have always gotten that one right."

"Did I?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," Binns said, "but most people miss it. I'm surprised to know that Celia Wells got it right last year, but Atticus Shadow IX didn't…and it was his own flesh and blood."

"Blood…" Cassandra muttered, and then asked the teacher, "Professor Binns, is it alright if I sip on a packet in class? I'm getting cravings."

"As long as you do it in the back where nobody can get squeamish looking at you," Binns said, "there will be no problem with you having a little snack."

_hphphphphphphphphphphphphp_

After History of Magic, Harry and the others went into the Charms classroom for Flitwick's PreN.E.W.T., but there was nothing out of the ordinary in there; it was just like a regular exam. As Serena Voltaire put it, "The American exams are harder than this; why I even studied for this class is beyond me!"

Hermione walked out of Flitwick's classroom, smiling as if she'd won a beauty contest or the world's best scholarship. "I got another 'O'!"

"Great," Cassandra said, folding her arms. "So did I. I'm also pretty sure that Lisa Turpin got one too."

"That wouldn't surprise me," said Harry. "Although she's a horrible gossip, she's a smart girl."

"That's putting it lightly," Ron said. "I don't think anyone is better at Hypnotism than her…and I don't take that class."

"Neville said it was horrible," Hermione said. "I don't understand why he signed up for that class if he wasn't going to do well."

"He's doing just _fine_," Cassandra argued. "He's better at it than I am. You're all just used to seeing Neville not do well that you're surprised he's found a few things he is freakishly good at."

"Is he as good as Lisa?" Harry countered, elbowing Cassandra a little, who then gave him a scowl.

"Well, no…but Lisa's better than Cyanis was," said Cassandra. "That's just not natural." She then narrowed her eyes and got a rather evil-looking sneer on her face. "Did you know that Cain Cyanis will not be returning to Hogwarts? Dumbledore's going to hire someone _else_ to teach, since Cyanis got busted as a Death Eater as soon as he set foot in Massachusetts."

"So, I guess this is where we temporarily split up," Hermione said, pointing to Professor Vector's Arithmancy classroom. She grinned about as evilly as Cassandra and said, "Good Luck on your Divination exam. Have fun."

"Don't worry," Ron replied, "we won't."

Harry walked up the staircase to Trelawney's room with Ron and Cassandra to see that only Firenze was in there. "Where's Trelawney?"

"She's representing Hogwarts before the Ministry of Magic today," Firenze replied, looking like he could care less.

"How could that _be possible_?" Cassandra asked. "You'd think they'd send my uncle, or McGonagall; you know, someone like that."

"The teachers put their names on pieces of paper, folded them up, and tossed them into the Sorting Hat. It was thoroughly shaken up by the house elves, and then Dumbledore picked a name out of the hat; Professor Trelawney was picked." Firenze sighed and said, "I think that was the only way anyone would even consider sending her anywhere."

"Yeah," Cassandra said. "So…is our PreN.E.W.T. ready?" Several students groaned when Cassandra said that, and most gave her sarcastic '_thank you Cassandra_'s. Nonetheless, Firenze gave everyone a single sheet of parchment. "Hold on…this is blank." Cassandra looked confused. "What are we doing?"

"Something that I think is totally unreliable," Firenze said. "I'm supposed to get you guys into groups of two and have you try Palmistry techniques to determine how many children your partner will have, how many times he'll be married and divorced, which career would be best suited for him, how old he will live to be, what path in life he will take, and what type of personality he will have a year from now."

"Palmistry?" Cassandra groaned, burying her face in her paper-white hands. "This really hasn't been a good day for me."

"Have you _ever_ had a good day?" Ron questioned.

"I don't think she has," Harry said, whispering to Ron, "so leave her alone."

The instructions Firenze gave were rather easy, and the only problem Harry had was that he couldn't pair up with Ron (the partner had to be the opposite gender), and before he could get Cassandra to be his partner, she got asked by Malfoy. "Er…Harry? I need a partner," said Lisa, batting her eyelashes, which were caked with at least nine layers of mascara. "Want to be mine?"

"Sure," Harry was not very thrilled with that, but it wasn't like too many girls were still available for the teaming. "So…are you going first?"

"Okay! Why not? I always do well in here," Lisa said, beaming. "I didn't even _need_ to study in this class, since it's such a joke. Did _you_ study?" She looked at his hands and said, "Oh…you _did_ study."

"You can tell that by looking into my palms?" asked Harry.

"No," Lisa said, "but you've got lots of paper cuts, and the Divination textbooks are infamous for slicing fingertips open." She looked deeper into his palms and said, "You're bound to a prophecy, so I cannot give definite answers. Does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named kill you or do you kill him? What's our assumption before I write down my exam answers?"

"Let's assume I kill him," Harry said, tapping his foot with impatience.

Lisa looked around for a while longer and said, "In that case, let's begin, shall we? What was the first question?"

"How many children will I have?" asked Harry.

"If you survive and You-Know-Who doesn't, you're going to have a daughter…only one child," Lisa began, "and you're going to name her after a person who will lay down her life for you in the future. She'll be a lot like you, too."

"Cool," Harry said, looking at Lisa curiously. "Next, how many times will I be married and divorced?"

"You'll be married twice, divorced once," Lisa said. "It's all here…assuming you defeat You-Know-Who. I'll give you the other answers on your left hand afterwards, okay? That's the one that says you'll die."

Harry was beginning to be a bit confused here. How was Lisa picking this information up? Was it trustworthy, coming from a girl like her? "So…which career is most suitable for me?"

"Harry," Lisa said, looking a bit creeped out, "I don't think you're going to like this answer."

"Why?" Harry asked, looking at the bleach-blonde as if she were trying her hardest to keep a juicy morsel of information from a gossiping buddy…something he knew she'd spill out rather quickly.

"Because the job most fit for you would be to follow in You-Know-Who's footsteps," Lisa said, looking about as pale in the face as Cassandra; and that was saying quite a bit, because Lisa had quite a tan complexion from cooking herself out in the sun for hours every day. "Dark Lord."

"You're joking, right?" Harry looked a bit spooked also. Becoming the very person he hated the most was one of his worst nightmares, and he vowed that he would never want to become the next Lord Voldemort. "Anything else?"

"It also says here that you would be a wonderful Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Lisa said, smiling weakly. "If I were you, I'd pick _that_ one."

"How old will I be when I die, assuming?" asked Harry, looking really interested in Lisa's answers. She was a lot better than Trelawney…better than Cyanis, too. Something was seriously unnatural about her ability to come out on top without studying.

"You die in your sleep at the ripe old age of 116," said Lisa. "So, yeah…if you defeat You-Know-Who, you've still got a century left."

"Wow," Harry said, blinking. "You sure do know your Divination, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Lisa said. "Animagery, Hypnotism, Transfiguration, Potions, yeah…a lot of this stuff is too easy for me to feel happy with."

"You think _Potions_ is easy?" Harry was shocked.

"Boring, too," Lisa said. "Sure, Snape scared me in my First Year, but now, I know there are scarier…just look at Professor Fenrir!" She shivered. "And Ahsimal…ugh…I can't stand vampires." She then blinked again and giggled. "Want me to continue?"

"Go ahead," Harry said, his legs beginning to go numb. He was ready for this to be done and over…and he wasn't looking forward to reading Lisa's palms.

"You're going to learn a lot of Black Magic, Harry," Lisa said, "and you're really going to like it." She glared at him angrily and said, "Come to think of it, what's your favorite class?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry replied.

"Besides that," Lisa added.

"Necromancy," admitted Harry.

"The Magic of the Dead," Lisa grimaced. "That's as dark as it gets. Let the Dead stay Dead, and may they rest in peace. Necromancer was another career I saw that I think you should avoid. Necromancers are scary folk, Harry, and most of them live wealthy but frightening lives."

"Just continue reading," Harry said, looking at the clock. "I want to have at least an hour to read yours, since I'm not as good as you."

"Okay!" Lisa chirped merrily as she kept looking deeper and deeper. "And a year from now, you're going to be a little darker in personality than you are now. You'll be taking a stand for vampires and werewolves, and love practically every moment of your more sinister classes." She showed a look of disgust and said, "and here I was, thinking you were a nice guy! I blame that Snape girl for turning you this way…I thought the fight between you and You-Know-Who would be a battle of good and evil. Instead, I'm only seeing you as the lesser of two evils."

"Yeah, well, that's life," Harry sighed. "Now, Lisa, how about you read the left hand?"

"Okay!" Lisa said, "This'll be quick." She scanned for about a minute, and then said, "Alright, it's like this; if You-Know-Who triumphs and you don't, you're not going to have that daughter I was telling you about, and that's pretty obvious. That female friend of yours who dies to protect you from the right-hand prediction will still do the same thing, only die even more miserably. You'll never be married—in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you died a virgin—you'll never have a career, you'll only live to be seventeen or eighteen, you won't have time to pick a path in life, and you'll still have the same personality I predicted earlier." She patted his hand and said, "But that's life, Harry." She then opened up her palms and said, "Read me!"

Harry looked at all the faint grooves and lines in Lisa's tan hands, and could see the shine of her hand lotion, which made it even harder to see the lines. '_Oh no,_' he thought to himself, '_this is going to be very hard._' "You're…er…going to have five children, and never be married, but divorced once—no, wait—you're not going to have any children, you'll be married five times and divorced once, but you'll die by 800—hold on, that can't be right!"

"No, it really can't," Lisa said, and then she laughed at him. Harry felt the tips of his ears go red in embarrassment; he couldn't stand Lisa, and here she was, laughing at him for making a mistake. "How about I show you how to do this?"

"Okay," Harry said, letting out a heavy sigh.

Just as Lisa leaned over to whisper to Harry how to correctly do a palm reading, Firenze sighed. "Mr. Potter, I expected better from you than cheating."

"Sir, she wasn't telling me what her palms said or anything like that," Harry said. "Lisa was only guiding me a little in the right direction."

"Oh, sure," Firenze let his shoulders slouch a bit and said, "I hate to do this—really, I do—but you leave me no other choice." He took Harry's sheet of parchment and wrote a single letter on it with his pen. "Cheating gives you an automatic 'T', according to the Hogwarts grading system. I suggest _next_ year, you don't listen to Miss Turpin when she offers to help you on exam days."

Harry took the sheet of parchment with the 'T' on it, and scowled angrily at Lisa. "Thanks a lot," he said, his words dripping in disdain and sarcasm.

"I'm sorry," Lisa said sweetly; Harry knew she didn't mean a word of it. "I was just trying to help."

Harry just sat there—that was all he could do until the bell rang—and listened to Malfoy's prediction for Cassandra. "You're never going to have children or marry. You'll be a mean old Potions teacher up at Hogwarts, just like your uncle, and you'll never die. And a year from now, you're going to be wicked enough to date me."

"Draco, you idiot," Cassandra said, laughing. "You were supposed to look at the _palm _of my hand, not the _back_ my hand!" She grabbed his hands and said, "Now I'm going to read you. You're going to have four children, you'll be married once, divorced twice, and remarried each time with the divorce, and it'll be the same woman, you'll be a great Cursemaster, and a real cruel jerk like your father. A year from now, you're not going to be all that different, except you'll be even _more_ annoying."

_hphphphphphphphphphphphphp_

"He gave you a 'T'?!" Hermione seemed very shocked by that. "But I thought he was your friend?"

"It's Lisa's fault," Harry grumbled, walking to the Foreign Magic room. "Now watch me do well in Foreign Magic without really trying." He turned to Hermione and said, "but really, what were we supposed to be studying?"

"I think in Ebonyste's own words, he said 'a little of this and that', or something like along those lines." Hermione shrugged her shoulders and groaned. "Cassandra, I think you have nothing to worry about; I believe it's a cumulative review, and you don't take that class."

"Oh no," Ron grumbled. "Harry, you and I are done for."

"Are you kidding?" Harry couldn't help but laugh. "It's _Ebonyste_ we're talking about here, not _Snape_!" He noticed the look Cassandra was giving him and rolled his eyes comically. "Oh, come on; I didn't mean that in a bad way. It's just that your uncle's a hard teacher, and—"

"I know you two don't get along," Cassandra said, smirking. "In fact, I've always found your confrontations to be rather amusing." She walked into the classroom and waved to Professor Ebonyste. "Hi, Don. How's it going?"

"Oh, it's going," Ebonyste replied. "That's all I can say right now about life, really. There's something that's been bothering me for weeks now, and I just don't have the guts to tell her."

"You _still _haven't told her?" Cassandra's eyes widened, and her mouth opened just slightly in amazement. Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but the conversation was one he didn't want to lose hearing to. "Honestly, Don, I thought Floridians like yourself were famous for being brave and gutsy when it came to relationships! How do you expect her to say 'yes' if she doesn't even hear the question?"

Ebonyste's ears drooped and he said, "I have no earthly idea, but I really have to find a way to get that cute little hottie to pay attention to me without having to get in front of _everyone_."

Cassandra folded her arms inward and tilted her head to the side. "Has that ever been a problem for you, being in a crowd? You cut the Dark Mark out of your arm with a pocketknife in front of the entire Ravenclaw House without any qualms." Ebonyste looked at the tattoo he had gotten over that scar, one of a very happy looking owl. "Hold on…what's _that_ doing there?"

"Oh, you like it?" Ebonyste's ears wiggled in delight as he said, "I registered at the Ministry of Magic as an Animagus, and they said I had to somehow indicate that I can turn into an owl, so I decided that I'd have an owl tattoo over where my Dark Mark used to be." He laughed a bit and said, "I think he's cool-looking, flapping his wings like that." Then Ebonyste looked at Cassandra more closely and said, "Wait a moment…you didn't take my course. You took it last summer! What are you doing in here?"

"I'm hanging out and taking the exam," Cassandra explained. "I know I finished last summer, but I want to take that exam anyway because there's no other class I can take exams for right now."

"Okay," Ebonyste looked at Cassandra for the strange girl she was, and handed her the paper. "Here you go, Cassandra. Why you want it truly escapes me." He looked up at everyone else and said, "You'll find your exams on your desks. Remember, if I _catch_ you cheating, I'll go by the rules. Cheat if you need to, as long as I don't catch you." He grinned and said, "You may begin."

Harry watched Cassandra tackle her exam like a crossword puzzle, and Hermione whiz right through it. He, however, was having a little trouble with remembering what country Elhazred was from, who the husband of Marie Laveau was, and how do describe the native magic of Canada. There was so much information he needed to know, some of which had totally eluded him, but there were some easy ones. He spent less time on that exam than some of the harder tests Ebonyste had thrown out around the end of February.

Before the halftime bell rang, he had finished every question besides, _"What is the difference between Voodoo and Juju practices?" _and the ten-point bonus. He wrote his response to the Juju/Voodoo question, and then pulled the sticky note off the bonus to reveal an inquiry that had no relation to Foreign Magic whatsoever. It was:

"**How should I propose marriage to Mitzi Nezura? If you give me a good answer, I'll give you ten points. If I use it in real life—and it works—I'll give you an automatic 'O' in this class.**"

Harry blinked and dipped his quill in his inkwell yet again and wrote, _"Just tell her you love her, and want to spend eternity with her instead of petty dating. I recall you saying before you 'crashed out' that Nezura was your perfect woman. Why don't you tell her that?" _

With that, he went up to Ebonyste and gave him his finished Foreign Magic PreN.E.W.T. He was one of the last—since everyone had been finding the exam ridiculously easy—and had wanted to make sure he had done a good job. "Here you go, Professor Ebonyste."

"Aw…since we've only got another three weeks in here—in which we all practically will be doing nothing but end-of-the-year incentive crap—and this class is pretty much over, you can call me Don." Ebonyste grinned widely, and his ears swished up and down. Harry got a closer look at the teacher's shirt and couldn't help but laugh a little. It was a customized t-shirt and read "Vampire Lover" in very cheery-looking letters.

"A Slayer like you is now a vampire's biggest fan, eh?" Harry pointed and chuckled.

"Yeah, well…after what Sargon did, I can't help but like them," Ebonyste said, rolling back his shoulders as Crabbe handed his exam in. "Well, that's that, and thus concludes our last official Sixth Year Foreign Magic lesson for the year 1997. You'll still be scheduled to come in here like you would regularly after this week is over, you know." He waved to all the students as the bell rang. "Enjoy your C.A.T. excerpt! Bye-bye!"

_hphphphphphphphphphphphphp_

After dinner, everyone went into Quirrell's classroom, finding lots of vials and herbs at their desks and a single sheet of parchment. "Hello," Quirrell said, walking about so swiftly, one would think that he was anxiously expecting something bad to happen. "Welcome to the first part of the C.A.T. For this evening, I thought we'd go ahead and begin working out this last experiment. Whether or not you successfully create the byproduct doesn't matter, as long as you're close. However, if you can make this item perfectly, there will be no need to take the N.E.W.T.-level Alchemy next year with me; you'll have to take my University-Level class instead to sharpen your skill even further. I have never met a person who could make the Powder of Projection—or the Philosopher's Stone—face-to-face. I failed in doing so because I was interrupted during the Swan stage." Some people looked very confused. "The C.A.T. takes all week, and we have the option of having Monday to finish up also if I decide we need it."

"Powder of Projection?" Cassandra repeated, confused. "Isn't that another byproduct of the Philosopher's Stone, sir?"

"Yes, it is," Quirrell replied, and looked out the window for a moment, then closed the blinds. "We'll be reading and performing this by candlelight as not to ruin our work with sunlight. Besides, we _do_ have a couple of vampires in this room."

"When I was eleven, I recall you were scared of me," Cassandra said, grinning and showing her fangs. "Still scared, Professor?"

"No," Quirrell answered. "Vampires are nothing to fear, unless they're in Bloodlust. Death Eaters, on the other hand…"

"Hey, can we begin?" asked Ron. "I don't mean to cut you short, but what are we doing?"

"What do you _think_?" Quirrell asked in response.

"Er…the Philosopher's Stone?" Ron and Harry said at the same moment.

"Exactly." The Alchemy professor looked very eager to begin working. "I have the 1725 edition of 'Treatise on Philosophical and Hermetic Chemistry' here with me, describing how to make this treasured item."

"What happens to it if we make it properly?" Harry asked. "You're not going to put it in your inventory, are you?"

"No," Quirrell said, rolling his eyes. "I'd rather make my own, thank you. It might be used for some of the harder Necromantic Resurrections and for near-death experiences. The stones will be placed in a special vault in Gringotts for future use, or at least that is what the Headmaster has made perfectly clear to me. Your ingredients and directions are right there by your seats. See what I have written for each group of three, and follow the directions precisely…I'm sure your Potions Master has made sure you know how to follow those from six years of practice."

Harry got together with Ron and Hermione, and watched Cassandra team up with Neville and Lisa. "I bet Lisa and Cassandra are going to do most of the work," Ron whispered to Harry. "Neville'd probably ruin their chances of making one."

After putting liquids, plants, metals, and containers in separate sections at the working station, Harry looked at what Quirrell had written about how to make this concoction:

**Philosopher's Stone, Elixir of Life, and Powder of Projection**

**Supplies**

A half-kilogram of regular table salt

A Flask of Salad Vinegar

Sulfuric Acid (Vitriol)

Potassium Nitrate (Saltpetre)

Nitric Acid (Aquafortis)

Mercury

80 mL of Calcium

A small piece of gold

30 mL of Holy Water

Ammonium Chloride (Sal-ammoniac)

Egg-shaped crystal vase

A simmering (but small) fire

A white porcelain vase

A Standard Size 1 Cauldron

Two wooden bowls

Your directions

**Directions:**

Put the mercury, salt, and vinegar into the cauldron

Add vitriol and saltpetre, and shake the concoction

Your mixture should have time to become rather solid

Put in aquafortis, and mix it up again

Toss in the Calcium and stir well

Mix the gold, sal-ammoniac, and Holy water together

Add it to the cauldron

Let it cool, and then mix it together into the egg-shaped crystal vase

Warm it over a continuous fire until the gold is gone

A contradictory liquor will arise from there; let it putrefy

Once it becomes black ("Crow's Head"), you'll know you've done it right so far

Boil it again in the white vase until it becomes a white liquor ("Swan")

Pour the white liquor into the two bowls, and let it sit for a day

That will be your Powder of Projection and Elixir of Life

Put both together in your cauldron and heat it up until it mixes together

And that, students, is your Philosopher's Stone.

"Wow," Hermione said, looking at that list. "He sure knows what he's talking about."

"So, why was he teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Ron asked.

"Double Major, Weasley," Quirrell said, passing by, taking the herbs from the tables.

"Hold on, that was shepherd's purse," Cassandra looked at the herb and said, "Why were you putting a common weed all over the place?"

"To ward off the doppelganger," Quirrell responded, as if that was perfectly normal and anyone else would have done the same thing. "I want it off my premises so I won't have to die again, or at least, not anytime soon."

"How'd you get the acids?" Cassandra asked, looking confused. "It's not like you can go out and find them on your own." She looked at the heavy glass, which contained the dangerous chemicals and sighed. "What catalog did you use?"

"I didn't use a catalog," Quirrell argued. "I bought these at a specialty shop in Hogsmeade."

"Alchemy store of some sort?" Malfoy asked. "Where is it?"

"Nowhere I want you to go," Quirrell retorted. "Get to work." He sat down at his desk and read even more heavily into 'Treatise on Philosophical and Hermetic Chemistry' while the students began working.

_hphphphphphphphphphphphp_

After the Exorcism exams with Aurelius were done, Necromancy exams were the only exam left the next day, and several people were afraid to go in there.

"At last, it boils down to this," Darius said, looking at the students merrily as he handed out the papers for the final exam. "Everyone, it has been a tremendous honor to get to know each and every one of you this school year, and I hope that most of you come back for Necromancy II next year. My Afterlight students, I hope to teach you III and IV next year instead. But for now, here is your Necromancy Final, and this is a two-part test; today, you do the written part; tomorrow night, you'll be coming with me to a cemetery for the physical part."

"Is it something we covered?" Harry asked, still a bit disappointed that Darius had never shown him how to Resurrect.

"Yes," Darius said, "but your exam isn't the end of the line for _you_, Harry. We're not quite finished." There was a sparkle of some sort in the depths of those mauve, effeminate eyes as Darius said that. "There is still much you have to learn in this class, and I don't feel satisfied having a student like you know _only_ as much as you do. Like Cassandra, you have the desire to learn as much as you can in here, and I really admire that."

"Will you teach me more?" Harry asked Darius, hoping the answer was a positive one. "This summer, perhaps?"

"If I can access you from your residence," Darius said, smiling sweetly, "I'd be honored to do private lessons. But now's not the time to talk about that; you've got to take the written part of your exam." He gave Harry a thirty-page test, with questions all the way back to the first day of class _last_ semester!

Harry took one look at that exam and got rather intimidated…they were mostly Multiple Choice, but at least _four _of the five answers seemed like good choices, it was almost as hard as a Short Answer:

**Which desire first spawned Necromancy?**

a. The ability to communicate with Loved Ones after Death for Enlightenment

b. Proving there was a Life after Death

c. Bringing lost children back to life

d. Making the Dead serve the Living

e. Revenge on the Executioners

**Who was the first Necromancer**?

a. Ahsimal of Larsa

b. An unknown man who lived in Sumer

c. An unknown Mesopotamian woman

d. An Egyptian who discovered it accidentally

e. None of the above: it was

**What is the difference between Zombies and the Living Dead**?

a. Zombies cannot hear anything but their Revivor

b. Living Dead can still speak and do everything they could while alive

c. Zombies are bound to serve their Revivor

d. None of the above

e. All of the above, except D

**Why aren't the Undead part of Necromancy**?

a. Because the Undead aren't technically Dead

b. Because the Living cannot _make_ a person Undead by any Necromantic means

c. The Undead can _practice_ Necromancy, but cannot be created by it; bites do that

d. None of the above

e. All of the above

**Which incantation spawns Type A Gore Crows**?

a. _Resorantus!_

b. _Separatum!_

c. _Terranecrosis!_

d. A & B only

e. B & C only

**What is a stink-balloon**?

a. A rotting body in Stage 2

b. A flask of Redemption Tonic

c. A rotting body in Stage 3

d. The little fungi which grow on corpses

e. A poltergeist

**Necromancy translates into…what**?

a. Magic of the Dead

b. Magic of the Dying

c. Magic of the Deceased

d. Magic of the Decomposing

e. Study of the Dead

**What types of postmortem spirits are there? Will you please circle all that apply**?

a. Angels

b. Demons

c. Ghosts

d. Lost Souls

e. Banshees

**Which form of Death will guarantee you a poor status in the Afterlife**?

a. Suicide

b. Slow Painful Death

c. Genocide

d. Being Murdered

e. Accidental Death

**Which cultures believed that the corpse had to be preserved for the spirit to live on forever**? **Circle all that apply.**

a. Egyptian

b. Mayan

c. Incan

d. Babylonian

e. Mesopotamia

**Who were the Gods of the Dead in different cultures? Circle all that apply.**

a. Hades (Greco-Roman)

b. Osiris (Egyptian)

c. Tammuz (Babylonian)

d. Ahriman (Zoroastrian)

e. Hel (Norse)

**Which instrument does one need to use during a Complex Resurrection**?

a. Flute

b. Violin

c. Bells

d. None of the above

e. Any of the above…

Harry looked at the first few pages and a cold sweat broke out on his brow; he didn't remember most of this information off-hand, and he had studied for this exam more than Potions and Clairvoyancy combined! He began to write down his answers, and continued onward, unsure about his accuracy. '_Darius thinks I'm a good student,_' he told himself mentally, trying to boost his confidence. He glanced at his other classmates and noticed most of them were still on Page Two of the exam, and that caused him to see how far he was: Page Five. He sighed, knowing there were twenty-five more pages to go.

After he had finished his final essay question (**The Seven Unnatural Laws of Necromancy**), Harry handed his paper to Darius, who looked relieved it was all over for him until Summer. "Thank you, Harry," Darius said, putting his down on the desk. "You're the first one to finish today. Kudos."

The teacher simply sat in his Manticore-leather recliner, reading the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_ and sipping on a cup of chilled blood. Cassandra and Blaise soon finished their exams also. "Okay, good for you two; now you and Harry can begin working on the Necromancy II exam." He handed Harry yet another exam, this one much shorter, and grinned. "By the way, you still have half a period in here, and this one is a bit quicker-paced."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said, rushing back to his seat.

Harry opened up the exam and his eyes widened; it was a single question on each of the nine pages, each an essay. He looked through to see that he had to:

Describe all four of the Stages of Decomposition, and give lots of detail in your answers. In your opinion, which was the worst stage to view?

Name the seven bells on a standard bell bandolier in size, order, and purpose. Which one's your favorite to use, and why?

Explain how Gore Crows can tell whether a person has been Resurrected or not. Also, why do they like the taste of cadaver?

Write out **Frankenstein's Law of Tissue Rejuvenation**, and point out two major flaws in his theory.

Tell the difference between a Basic and Complex Resurrection…give details about the incantations, protections, and possibilities of failure.

(Application) Suppose you are a Necromancer, and are making a speech to the Minister of Magic. What would you say to him to get him to appreciate Necromancy instead of fear it?

Tell me what happens to the victim of a botched Necromancy. What happens to his/her body? Does the person change in temperament? Will people recognize him/her?

Do you believe in Life after Death now? If so, describe it to me. If not, tell me _why_ you don't.

Necromancy is a very old form of magic, but never truly dies. What valuable lessons have you learned not only about the practice, but about the immortal soul?

Harry double-checked his paper once he only had five minutes left in Turret Thirteen, and then handed the eager Professor his essays. Blaise finished before him this time, but he didn't care. Darius once more told him "thanks" and asked him to go back to his seat. Harry did so, and watched everyone else finish their Necromancy I exams. Cassandra soon finished her Necromancy II essays and placed those on Darius's desk, and returned to her seat. Her cheeks were a bit pink as she sat down, and to Harry, it was still obvious Cassandra thought Darius was handsome.

"That wasn't all that bad, was it?" he asked Cassandra.

"Not at all," Cassandra replied. "This exam was one I wasn't too worried about for you, Blaise, and me. Now poor Aarel, on the other hand…I don't know how he did."

The bell rang to dismiss the class, and everyone went to the tallest tower for the Astronomy final with Sinistra. It had been an all-day affair for the Necromancy exam, but it wasn't over yet…there was still the next night.

_hphphphphphphphphphphp_

Right after lunch on Wednesday, everybody headed over to Furrier's classroom for the Clairvoyancy final. "Hi," was all Furrier said as he lifted his fluffy head out from his little kitty condo. "Exams are on the table in the back. Put them on top of my little hideaway when you're done, alright? I'll just be snoozing with my catnip mouse."

Harry worked out his exam for Furrier with quite a bit of gusto, answering short answer questions like:

The Art of using fire to view what others are doing in the past, present, and future is known as and can be dangerous when viewing s.

is the practice of flipping a set of special cards about to guess about a person's fate. Fortune Tellers are infamous for using this unpredictable system.

is when a person's hand tells all about what their life will be like.

For quick information gathering, touching s can really help you.

And others like it soon followed, much to Harry's disappointment. Furrier had made it rather easy for the students, knowing how unstable the class had been, but it was still obvious that studying for it should have crossed the minds of anyone with common sense. He placed his finished copy of the exam on top of Furrier's kitty condo and went back to his seat to look over what he had to do for today's part of the C.A.T., since yesterday had been the first written part. After seeing he had to mess around with that dangerous concoction again, he groaned in displeasure; Quirrell could have picked something more interesting to make, like the Fifth Element, right? It was a bit safer, but harder to make. The difficulty was something Harry didn't mind; but the acids and metals placed into that cauldron to make a Philosopher's Stone gave off such a pungent odor, it about knocked him to his knees.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked Harry. "You're staring at your Alchemy book."

"Am I?" Harry asked, suddenly noticing that he was indeed looking at 'All That Glitters Can be Turned to Gold' instead of his pamphlet about the C.A.T. he'd gotten from Remus that morning right after the Herbology exam. "Oh," he groaned. "I guess I am."

"You're worried about the C.A.T., aren't you?" Hermione inquired. "If it makes you feel any better, I think the only people who aren't worried about that test are Marcus, Lisa, and me."

"Right." Harry folded his arms and sighed. "You guys had Parenein for your Hawkbane at the beginning of the year, and then you had Loxias." He then narrowed his eyes and said, "So, now it's Quirrell, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said, sighing. "He's the best out of the three of them, but I still don't like him." She looked up at the ceiling, just waiting for that bell to ring. "Oh, look! Ebonyste wrote his name up there twenty years ago!" She pointed to it, and there it was. "You _do_ know that Transfiguration is next, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "but I'm not all that eager to go in there. McGonagall always has something hard for us to do."

hphphphphphphphphphphp

Clairvoyancy and Transfiguration were both decently challenging exams, but Harry was sure he'd at least made an 'E' on the two of them. That night was very relaxing, and he was glad to have the final part of the Necromancy PreN.E.W.T. under his sleeve after an hour or so. Like everyone else in that class, he met outside Darius's office door to head out to St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery…at least, that's where he thought everyone would be going.

"Darius, are you in there?" he asked, knocking on the door.

"Yes," Darius answered, "but hold on a moment; I have to get dressed before we leave for Hogsmeade. I just got out of the shower, and I'm only in my boxers."

"Too much information, sir!" Ron said, grimacing at the thought of what Darius looked like in only his undergarments. Several other people grimaced too; although Darius was a good-looking person, nobody wanted to picture that, except perhaps, Cassandra. After a couple of minutes, the door creaked open and Darius peered out, his long wet hair combed back into a loose ponytail.

"Oh, hey…welcome back to the World of the Living."

"Ha," Darius said, fake-laughing at Ron's jest, and added sarcastically, "Very funny. Now come on…we've got all night, but I'm sure most of you want to go to bed at a decent hour, seeing as tomorrow you have your Potions, Animagery, Manipulations, and Care of Magical Creatures PreN.E.W.T.s, as well as another excerpt from the C.A.T."

"Don't remind us about the C.A.T." Malfoy grumbled angrily. "Quirrell's a lot stricter than I recalled him being. It's still hard for me to accept that the hot Alchemy teacher turned out to be _him!_"

"Malfoy, I think I can still get you to kiss the Alchemy teacher, not that _he'll_ like it," Ron jeered, waving a bag of pink Mood Drops in his face. Malfoy immediately shut up and went back to paying Darius attention.

Darius, however, was walking down the stairs with Cassandra and the few students who had been paying attention to his movements. "Come along, students…if you fall asleep during the exam, I'm going to take points off. Try to keep up for your own sake." He reached the bottom of the stairs very quickly by jumping. Cassandra did the same, and it was quite a drop; at least four stories. There was a pair of thuds afterwards, and then Darius's voice from the bottom floor. "Hello? None of you qualify to exempt this part of the exam, so quit the dillydally!"

"Are you alright down there, Professor Ahsimal?" Lisa asked, a faint hint of odium in her voice. It was clear she hated Darius very much, as she did _any_ vampire. "I hope he's broken a leg or something," she muttered where there was no way possible for Darius to hear the spiteful comment.

"I'm perfectly fine, Miss Turpin" Darius shouted back. "Cassandra's okay, too; thanks for asking."

"What?!" Lisa looked amazed. "How?"

"For being a member of a large group who wanted to be bitten by me, Miss Turpin, I'd have thought you'd know that vampires are usually very graceful individuals and have the durability of nearly fifty humans." Harry and the others could hear Darius's giggle again after he said that, and it only got louder the closer the groups got to the ground level.

Darius then led the students off campus and toward Hogsmeade, but he was heading uptown, and not downtown to St. Clytemnestra's, like everybody had suspected. "Professor Ahsimal, are you losing your memory?" Malfoy jeered. "The cemetery is the other way! Why are we—"

"Shush, Mr. Malfoy," Darius said. "We're heading off to a Muggle Cemetery tonight, not St. Clytemnestra's. It's going to be about a half-hour ride on the British Knight Bus." An almost angelic smile was on the vampire's face as he said that. "Our final exam is going to be a bit of a scavenger hunt."

"We're going to desecrate all those graves?!" Hermione sounded disgusted by what she _thought_ Darius was implying. "Ugh…as soon as I thought you could sink no lower!"

"Who said anything about that but you?" Darius replied. "I find that disrespectful toward the Dead, Miss Granger, and would _never _dream of doing that. We won't even be digging anyone up except one person. However, each of you will find a shovel in the caretaker's tool shed in the back once we make it to Salzburg—"

"We're going to Austria?" Ron blurted, confused.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley," Darius answered. "We're going to Austria to dig up the body of Grindlewald."

"Not to Resurrect him, I hope," Ron responded. "My gramps had quite a lot of tales to tell me about how awful Grindlewald was. Not as bad as You-Know-Who, but still very bad." He looked at Darius and said, "But you'd know firsthand, right? You were around then."

"Yes, I was," Darius said, "but I spent 1940 to 1943 in Berlin, and then I spent the rest of World War II in Bergen-Belsen." When some people had jaws drop, Darius went into further detail. "Sargon and I both got put in there for being lovers; Nazis didn't want to _only_ exterminate Jews; they wanted to be rid of gypsies, handicapped people, and homosexuals too. Let's just say that the two of us fit into the last category." He sighed and said, "Those poor people."

"How'd you survive?" Serena asked. She looked very caught up in Darius's tale, and very eager to learn what happened next. "How did you take care of Sargon?"

"What makes you think I took care of him?" Darius countered, pursing his lips with exasperation. He looked a tad annoyed with Serena. "He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much! For the first few weeks, _he_ helped _me_, not the other way around. And then, instinct kicked in." Several people wondered what the teacher meant as he walked down the path with them, not even looking behind. "You see, if a vampire goes without blood long enough, he'll be driven into a Bloodlust so powerful that not even an experienced Slayer can kill him…and he won't recognize a friend from foe because he's so hungry. The blood is all that will matter to the thirsty vampire, and he won't care how many have to die to quench his thirst."

"I thought this was going to be a nice victory story about how you beat the Nazis and made friends with the other concentration camp prisoners!" Hermione looked outraged. "You mean to tell me you _fed on _the corpses?!"

"Miss Granger, you have the nasty habit of finishing my sentences for me, and your versions are nothing like my own," Darius said, a hint of warning in his smooth voice. "There were a few guards who came to check up on us occasionally, you see…well, before the Bloodlust came to me and Sargon, we'd just feast on them. After a while, that wasn't enough, and we had a horrible incident where we feasted on an entire tent. A vampire never feeds on a corpse, so our victims were still at least barely alive." Darius also grimaced and said, "And the smell…oh, it was worse than a dozen floaters simultaneously bursting…thinking back on eating there makes me want to vomit." He blinked and grinned, pointing at the Knight Bus, which had finally stopped for him. "Okay, everyone; get in."

"Now, about Grindlewald," Ron said. "Sir, we're not going to Resurrect him, are we?"

"No," Darius said, lying down on one of the many beds in the bus. "We're going to steal his corpse and burn it. I'll then scatter the ashes in the ritualistic manner, so nobody but yours truly can bring him back to life. Whenever Voldemort dies, I'll somehow find a way to do the same to his body…and for turning his back on me, after all I'd done for him, I'll piss on his grave, too."

"I'd like to join you," Harry said, grinning. Darius laughed along with him, ruffling the Sixth Year's hair. It was obvious the two of them were having a much better time than Darius had back in the 1940s.

hphphphphphphphphp

Wednesday night had been one of the most interesting Necromancy classes Harry had ever attended. Thursday, however, were the exams he had not really been looking forward to taking…Potions, Animagery, and Manipulations. However, luckily, it was also Care of Magical Creatures day. The walk down to the Dungeon was sheer torture, as everyone drudged down there, looking over their notes for a last-minute study. It really was a last-minute study, because less than a minute after everyone had opened their textbooks to the indexes, Snape came in, slamming the door.

"Your Exams are ready," he said flatly, and then noticed everyone had their textbooks out. "Ah, how thoughtful of you…I was just about to ask you to place those on your desks. Year Six is always the year we use school-bought books. Potter, gather them up and place them on the far right corner of my desk."

Harry didn't even have the drive to argue against Snape when he knew that the Potions Master would probably take points off his grade for refusing to cooperate.

"Yes, Sir," Harry said, collecting everyone's books. Malfoy dropped his copy three or four times, and asked Harry to pick it up.

"Why can't _you_ do it?" Harry argued.

"Because I hurt myself while carrying part of Grindlewald's casket last night," was Malfoy's response. He then theatrically whined and said, "So please, Potter…could you pick up my book for me?"

Harry rolled his eyes and placed the entire pile of books (he had collected twenty-one so far) on Malfoy's desk while bending down to pick up the dropped book…when he was suddenly pelted by very heavy Potions textbooks…twenty-one of them.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, still with a dramatically teary voice. "They just slipped; there was nothing I could do." Crabbe, Goyle, and several other Slytherins laughed at that. Harry picked each and every book up and placed them all on Snape's desk…except his own.

"Potter, why is your book still on your desk?" Snape inquired. "Is there a reason for that?"

"Yes, Sir, there is," Harry admitted, as he picked up the book. "I couldn't carry that many books at one time," he lied. Snape simply shrugged and went back to looking over some poor Fifth Year's O.W.L. grading. Glad the teacher wasn't looking, Harry started heading up toward the desk with his book, making a quick trip to Malfoy's desk in the process. When Malfoy's head was turned away from Harry—talking to Marcus—Harry hit the side of the Slytherin's blond head with the textbook…_hard_.

"OW!!!" Malfoy bawled. "POTTER, THAT WAS MY HEAD!!"

"Sorry," Harry jeered. "It just slipped; there was nothing I could do." Although Snape took thirty points away from Gryffindor for that action, Harry could appreciate the sense of fulfillment he got out of the enormous knot left on Malfoy's head. He then got to work on his exam, which Ron had passed out. It was a series of long essay questions; twenty, in all:

Rosemary has several qualities besides being a delicious herb to put on fish and poultry. Tell me which acne-prevention potion uses rosemary in it, and what significance the plant has had as the Herb of Remembrance in the Middle Ages.

Lavender is known for its soothing qualities, and also for being the allergen to all doppelgangers. Give a list of all the known Potions from the past four hundred and fifty years which have lavender as an ingredient.

Define _Aquafortis_; tell whether it is safe or dangerous to ingest by itself, and if it is dangerous, what should be used to counter its toxic effect.

Recall: Minotaur Hearts are used in the Tonic of Misery. Why is the heart of a Minotaur needed to make that tonic? Is it the key ingredient, or is it the squonk tears? Explain in profuse detail.

Name thirty different Potions in which live grave maggots have to be added. The infamous Tonic of Nightmares and the Drought of Suicide do not count for credit.

How does one make a Retribution Tonic?

Splipberry Nectar…what all Potions are made with it?

If Lavender is the Herb of Tension-Relief, Rosemary is the Herb of Remembrance, and Myrrh is the Herb of the Deceased, then what is Cinnamon's significance?

Vetivert, rose geranium, and patchouli mixed with moonstone and granite…what concoction is this once human blood is added?

Which element is an untraceable poison? You may view the periodic table on the back of your sheet to see how to spell it, if need be, and you're really that dense. This is assuming, of course, you know which element it is.

Sadly, those were only half of the questions Snape asked, and each page was harder than the last. Harry wasn't sure how he had finished before the bell rang, but he somehow managed. Snape looked over the front page of his sheet, a smirk appearing on his sallow face. Harry quickly walked out of there to the Second Floor Auditorium to take his Animagery and Manipulations exams with Stanzi and Filch. He didn't stop for Cassandra, Ron, Hermione, or even Neville…he wanted to go there early to get at least five cramming minutes in…it had been ages since Furrier had shown anyone anything to do with Animagery. Luckily, it was a short multiple choice test, and most of the questions were easy. The Manipulations test Stanzi passed out, however, was rather difficult…it was as if she wanted to sum up the works of Leir, Loxias, _and_ Pyrites in eleven pages of true horror. It was fill-in-the-blank with paragraphs, but most of the terminology was so hard that Harry was getting dizzy from reading over it.

"Are you alright?" Stanzi asked him as he turned in the Manipulations exam. "You look rather tired."

"That was a hard exam," Harry admitted. "How was I supposed to remember the specifics of faunal hypnosis? We covered that with Loxias." As soon as he said _Loxias_, Stanzi flinched. "Oh, sorry about that, Stanzi. I forgot."

"Well, I'm not going to," Stanzi said, shrugging her shoulders. As Harry started walking back to his seat, he could really see the swelling in Stanzi's stomach area…it was obvious to everyone that she was very much pregnant. "I've got the comfort of knowing she won't deprive me of the joy of my second child. Harry, which exam do you guys have next?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Harry answered. "Why?"

"Have you taken Astronomy yet?"

"Yes."

"Herbology?"

"Yesterday."

"Necromancy?"

"Finished last night."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Er…not yet," Harry admitted. "Have the Seventh Years?"

"Yes," Stanzi said, "and according to Dr. Hemlock, only nine of them passed it." Hearing that made Harry break into a cold sweat; he had no idea how good he was doing in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Dr. Hemlock teaching. He'd absorbed a lot of information, but Dr. Hemlock did not share grades…and hardly ever let people see them, even upon request. "Best of luck to you and your group, okay? Altogether, you guys are a lot like the group of people I used to idolize as a Third Year."

"And that would be…?"

"Your father and his friends," Stanzi admitted. "As an underclassman, they were quite impressive to watch and listen in on." She grinned and waved the students out. "Remember, next week the Incentives begin, and the Headmaster acquiesced to my request for that End of the Year Ball!"

Harry didn't have to wait up for Ron and Hermione; they ended up waiting on him to finish talking to Stanzi about the next Dueling Club meeting. However, the trio ended up spending quite an amount of time waiting for Cassandra and Neville to come out. When they finally left the auditorium, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor were whispering amongst themselves. "What's going on?" Harry asked, curious as to why his two friends were looking so merry.

"We've decided to try dating each other," Cassandra said calmly, and looked at Neville again. "I've kind of grown attached to Neville."

"Just a few weeks ago, you still called him by his last name," Ron pointed out. "That's pretty fast-paced. Was it love at first sight or something like it?"

"Who cares?" Cassandra retorted. "If things don't work out, we're still going to be friends." She turned to Neville and said, "Isn't that right?"

"Yeah, that's right," Neville agreed, looking very happy. Harry couldn't help but think that Cassandra was the only girlfriend Neville was going to have…but he somehow found himself a little envious of Neville. It wasn't that he was attracted to Cassandra in that way, but it was the thought that he felt Cassandra understood _him_ in some ways better than Ron and Hermione…and she probably couldn't relate to Neville in the same way. Besides, his clumsy friend was going to have a date to that dance, and he wouldn't…in fact, Harry had been planning on asking Cassandra to be his date to the End of the Year Ball.

"Good for you," was all Harry could bring himself to say, still shocked that either one had 'hooked up.' It was a short walk to Hagrid's Hut after that, and Hagrid was sitting out there, eager to greet his students for his PreN.E.W.T. exam.

"Care fer Magical Creatures exams are on the table in the back," Hagrid announced as he fed Godric a few dead rats. "Yeh have the entire class period ter finish it."

"How hard is it?" asked Ron, turning pale.

"Nowhere near as hard as the one Snape gave yer group earlier, I can guarantee ya that!" was Hagrid's response. "I'm sure none of ya will find it too hard."

In fact, Harry didn't find the exam to be hard at all. Like Clairvoyancy, the Care of Magical Creatures exam was fairly easy. Hagrid's questions were mostly on Nymphs and Griffins, but he had a few questions on Phoenixes, Manticores, Amphisbaenas, Yales, Dragons, and other creatures he'd covered throughout the school year. The exam was a cumulative review, but nowhere near as difficult as the Potions exam. Harry seriously doubted that any of the Friday exams (Phobomancy, Curses & Rootwork, and Defense Against the Dark Arts) would be as difficult as Snape's. Maybe Dr. Hemlock's, but then again, maybe not.

_hphphphphphphphphp_

Knowing that this day would be the last day of the testing, all the students were relieved that the pressure was almost over. It had been a grueling pace to keep up with, but it could have been much worse. After breakfast, Harry found himself sitting inside Fenrir's classroom, noticing the variety of little animal skeletons lying around, as well as half-melted candles and amulets. Surprisingly, the smell of rot wasn't in there, and the room smelled like a variety of spices instead.

"I hope all of you studied for this exam," Fenrir calmly said, a smile appearing on his rough-looking face. He glanced all around the room at his pupils and the smile broadened. "Lift up the folding part of your desks and you'll find your exams. In two minutes, you will begin. For now, I will permit you to glance over your notes, just in case you think you need to recall something you might have missed during your previous studies."

"Thank you, Professor Fenrir," Cassandra said in a rather pleased voice as she pried open her green journal. By now, Harry knew she kept _all_ her notes in there, as well as her self-made notes from Dark Arts studies and Nemesarium.

Harry, however, had to pull out the right composition book to look over all that Fenrir had covered. From day one, everything had gradually gone up on the fear intensity, and he had always wanted to run out of the classroom; sometimes Fenrir could scare him more than Voldemort, and he found himself wondering whether or not Fenrir was a Death Eater. He glanced upward and took a quick study of Fenrir; the man was wearing his usual ensemble of blue jeans, boots, a teacher's robe, and a t-shirt (he was sporting the Eye of Horus today). Harry also noticed a new tattoo on Fenrir's wrist of the seven-point star which was now quite familiar to him.

"Staring is impolite, Potter," Fenrir said, breaking Harry's observation. "You and everyone else should open up your desks and begin the exam now."

Harry did so without any further questions after he put away his composition book. There were several disturbing diagrams he had to complete, tables to write in proper words and terms, and match incantations with the correct effects. There were over a hundred questions, and Harry only struggled a little bit with them, since he had studied for this exam more than most of the others. Fenrir was a tough teacher, but he was rather helpful when people got lost…assuming you asked for help _after_ classes were dismissed for the day. He looked at his wristwatch after he finished the next-to-last question and noticed there was only five minutes for him to finish the essay…_"Phobomancy is highly-monitored by the Ministry of Magic. Do you agree or disagree with this decision? Is it right or wrong to put limitations on magic? Whichever way you feel, write down and give at least seven good explanations as to why you feel this way." _

Harry blinked and began to write down his answer. Five minutes later, he had only gotten six of his seven reasons down…he wasn't finished.

"Time's up, everyone," Fenrir said, coming by and swiping the papers off desks. "If you're not finished, that's too bad because I'm grading it anyway." He made it to Harry's desk and took his papers also. "Good luck to you and everyone else on the Curses & Rootwork exam. I honestly don't think Morty's going to go easy on his brightest students."

"Professor Fallowin went easy on us," Marcus argued. "Who's saying Skylarke won't go easy?"

"I am," Fenrir said. "Besides, Aurelius is a bit sympathetic to you guys and thinks that most of you won't take his class again if you don't do well on the Exorcism I exam. Besides, he's a whole different animal from the Morty Skylarke I am familiar with."

Harry and the other students went in one large mob to Turret Fifteen and waited outside the door for Morty to open it. He did once the bell rang, and closed the door again after everyone was seated. The room was a lot emptier than Harry was used to seeing it.

"Are you leaving us after this year?" Harry asked.

"No," Morty said. "I'm staying put. It's just that a friend of mine wants to redesign my room to look a bit more welcoming to my new students next year."

"Ah, now that makes sense!" Marcus exclaimed. "So what happened to the old furniture you had in here earlier?"

"I gave it to Professor Ebonyste and his bride-to-be as an early wedding present," Morty explained. "I'm sure all of you knew that he proposed marriage to Mitzi Nezura on Tuesday, and she agreed to it happily." He cracked a wry smile and sighed with a slight hint of envy. "Those two are lucky to find true love."

"How can it be true love if they couldn't even be boyfriend and girlfriend for two weeks without breaking up?" Lisa asked, obviously arguing with Morty. "I wonder how many weeks it'll be until they divorce?"

"Mitzi wanted more than that, and thought Adonis wouldn't think of it, and vice versa," Morty said. "Now that both know marriage was the desire, they've agreed to it. As to why I gave them my old furniture…it was only because they had both mentioned to me several times how lovely they thought my furnishings were. I can afford to give it to them. Besides, I don't want it anymore, since it all belonged to my family…I don't want to remember them any more than I have to."

He went desk-to-desk, handing out small booklets with the words 'Curses & Rootwork I, PreN.E.W.T.' printed on the front. "You'll find everything we covered inside this booklet. The rest of the class period is yours to work on the eighty-four questions. Take your time, but please finish before class is dismissed…I have to give this to the Seventh Years right after you guys leave."

Harry found questions about every Curse, Countercurse, and Jinx that had been covered throughout the entire year, as well as eight questions about Voodoo dolls. Morty's exam was rather tricky, almost at a par with Snape's on the difficulty level, but Harry found it a bit easier because he liked Curses & Rootwork and could concentrate better on it than Potions. He finished the exam with fifteen minutes to spare. However, he noticed that both Hermione and Malfoy had finished before he did. Five minutes later, Cassandra turned her paper in. Harry spent the last few minutes looking over his Defense Against the Dark Arts notes, knowing that Dr. Hemlock was a tough lady and that only nine of the Seventh Years had passed her exam.

"Studying for Dr. Hemlock?" Morty asked Harry.

"Mmmhmm," was Harry's response as he looked over how to handle an angry Chimaera with a clarinet. It had seemed like years instead of months ago learning that from Nezura.

"Good luck," Morty said. "I took her exam for fun this morning, and I only got eighty percent of it right. But then again, it's been years since I was in a Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and you encounter the Dark Arts rather often, so you might have nothing to worry about." The bell rang to send the students to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and Morty smiled at all the students wryly. "Do your best…and just hope that passes. I'm sure most of you at least _passed_ my exam. You've mostly been a bright group."

"So…how do you think you did, Ron?" Harry asked his friend as they left Turret Fifteen.

"Oh, I don't know," Ron said. "That was a hard exam, and here I was thinking he'd go easy on us." He sighed and said, "I'm sure I got a 'D' on it, or worse." He elbowed Hermione. "How do you think _you_ did?"

"I think I did alright," Hermione said. "But Ron, I kept telling you that Skylarke was going to be difficult about his exam, seeing as he used to teach this to University-level students. You should have studied harder and prepared yourself." She then looked at Harry. "Harry, how did the exam strike you?"

"It was challenging," Harry said, "and I think I would have failed it if I hadn't studied. But, since I did, I think I might have at least passed it with an 'A.'"

"That's good," Neville said. "I would have failed it if Cassandra hadn't helped me out. I bet she passed with flying colors, seeing as she knows the Dark Arts like the back of her hand."

"I'm not really proud about that," Cassandra said, laughing a little, "but to each their own. Neville, I'm sure you did just fine, and would have been alright even without my help." She pulled out a box of goldenrod and violet Mood Drops and said, "Well, here's to our last exam, everyone. I think each of us need a Self-Confidence and Memory boost before we take Dr. Hemlock's test."

"I'll double you on that," Ron said, wolfing down four Mood Drops in one gulp. "Thanks, Cassandra."

"What are friends for?" Cassandra grimly said, entering the classroom. "Oh, good! It looks like Dr. Hemlock's fallen asleep." She grinned broadly enough for everyone to get a good look at all her teeth, including her two fangs. "How about I go wake her up and tell her everyone will be here shortly?"

"No, let someone else do that," Neville said. "Some of us need a quick review."

"You mean you do," Hermione corrected Neville. "I'm ready for that exam, and I'm sure Harry is too."

"Yeah, I am," Harry admitted. "I'm always ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hm…?" Dr. Hemlock muttered, her orange eyes slightly beginning to open. "Hey, is it time for me to give you my exam?"

"Er…not quite yet," Hermione said. "Everyone else has to get in here, right?"

"No," Dr. Hemlock said. "If you like, you guys can get a head start on the written part of the exam. After class, I'm going to make all of you do a final doppelganger safety exercise before I set you loose for the incentive weeks."

"Thanks for helping us learn how to defend ourselves," Harry said. "You've got to be one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers Hogwarts has had in a long time."

"Why, thanks for that assessment!" Dr. Hemlock said, her cheeks turning a little rosy. "I'm flattered, really I am, but I don't care how likeable a teacher I am…as long as you guys learned the material I taught you well enough to recall even in the most frightening circumstances."

"Professor Fenrir's nowhere near as scary as he could have been if you hadn't shown us how to block some of the Phobomancy techniques," Cassandra admitted. "Sure, I like Phobomancy, and I like Professor Fenrir, but even I've been scared frequently in there."

"At least you'll admit it," Dr. Hemlock chuckled. "Go work on your exams, alright?"

"Yes, Professor," said Harry. He sat down at his desk, as did his friends and the other students who had come in. Several still had yet to enter as he wrote his name down on the top of the exam booklet. His eyes widened as he opened to the first page and read '**Table of Contents: Nezura, Snape, Hemlock**'. For a moment, he was confused, and then remembered that each of the three teachers had covered different parts of Defense Against the Dark Arts that year. Demons, spells, entities, creatures, preventions, even more Countercurses…it was all in there. Dr. Hemlock had covered everything she could get her hands on, and several of the pages were nothing but tables with confusing titles such as 'All members of the genus Daemon', and having to describe characteristics, powers, looks, rarity, and binomial nomenclature…and that was only for the creatures and entities. For the spells, long diagrams that looked like family trees were placed there with empty boxes to write down the spells and which genre they fell under. It was enough to make Harry's head spin.

Finally, he reached the last page to see Dr. Hemlock had written:

"Congratulations; you have completed this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts course. It has been the highlight of my career to educate students like you in what I know the most about. Hopefully, you learned your lessons well and this knowledge will never leave you. Just know that your exam isn't exactly over yet. You still have to do the Doppelganger Safety Exercise."

Harry groaned; he was unsure as to what Dr. Hemlock meant by that; Tonks had refused to role-play as a doppelganger again, so what had she found to be fictional doppelgangers?

"If you're finished, hand me your booklets," Dr. Hemlock said gently as she took another puff out of one of her clove cigarettes…or "joy sticks", she called them. After everyone had done so, Dr. Hemlock raised her wand over the entire class and said a rather interesting incantation; "_Phobias!_"

"What was that for?" asked Dean.

"Yeah…what did we ever do to you?" Seamus added. "What was that spell?"

"That was the Fear Charm," Dr. Hemlock said. "You'll hopefully cover that in Phobomancy next year. I have cast a spell over all of you to temporarily make your top fear the doppelganger."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because," Dr. Hemlock began, "I have collected two dozen boggarts over the past few weeks and set them loose all over the school. If they believe that your worst fear is the doppelganger, they'll shift into a doppelganger, which will shift into you. It's the closest thing to a real doppelganger I could find on such short notice, seeing as none of us know where the real one is. You're all to walk all over the campus and within the school. No rooms are forbidden to you, except the Headmaster's office—which I doubt any of you can get into anyway—and Mr. Filch's office. I've set up a system from my own office—right over there—where I can grade you on how well you do against those boggarts. Have fun, but remember…this _is_ for a grade. Also, only dating couples and best friends can travel in groups. Everyone else must go solo, just to be the worst-case scenario. Makeshift groups should split up."

"Leave it to Dr. Hemlock to make up something like that," Hermione grumbled to Harry and Ron as they left the room. "Harry, I hope we all do well."

"Me too," Harry said, watching Neville and Cassandra run down the staircases to the bottom floor. "Good luck to them, also." With that, he began walking upstairs with Ron and Hermione, all of them deciding to go as high up as they could. It took them about twenty minutes to make it to the top floor, but it was well worth it. Harry had no idea that some of the stuff that was up there existed, and the view downward was absolutely amazing to look at.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he whispered, using his watch's face as a makeshift mirror to reflect anything that came into view. "Hermione, do you have any salt in your pockets?" he asked, pretty sure the answer was a no.

"No," Hermione said. "If I knew Dr. Hemlock was going to do this, I would have had quite a lot of it in there." She rolled her eyes and said, "Letting loose two dozen boggarts in the school sounds rather irresponsible to me. What was she thinking?"

"She was thinking that it would help us with our studies, I guess," Harry said, actually beginning to enjoy doing nothing but walking about the top floor. "It's kind of cold up here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it really is," Hermione admitted. "I never thought I'd have to bring that sweater of mine today, so I didn't…I'm regretting that mistake now. It's a little chilly."

"HEY!" a voice from three floors down shouted; Harry recognized it as Malfoy. "POTTER, HAVE ANY OF YOU FOUND ONE YET?"

"NO," Harry shouted back to Malfoy. "HAVE YOU?"

"YEAH!" Malfoy replied, sounding very happy. "CRABBE, GOYLE, AND I JUST TOOK CARE OF ONE OF HEMLOCK'S BOGGARTS. WE'RE DONE."

"GOOD FOR YOU," Harry shouted, hoping his would show up soon so he could go eat. He was also rather thankful that Quirrell had decided to postpone the last part of the C.A.T. to Monday afternoon instead of that evening, seeing as he had learned about what Dr. Hemlock had been doing with the boggarts. Suddenly a scream echoed down the end of the hall, and then the pounding of feet.

"Who's there?" Harry asked, unsure of who was screaming, and why…although he felt he had a pretty good idea what was going on. Someone probably found one of the boggarts.

"Potter, is that you?!" Ebonyste shouted, running down the hall. He finally passed the two Sixth Years and said, "Phew! You're not going to believe what was down that way!"

"Try us," Ron said. "Something scary?"

"Oh…yes," Ebonyste admitted, shivering. "I saw my worst nightmare, all clad in—"

Ebonyste was interrupted by a honking horn, and the three Gryffindors (as well as the bewildered Foreign Magic teacher) found themselves facing Ebonyste's worst fear, which Harry found to be rather ridiculous. "A circus _clown_?" Harry looked at Ebonyste in a way that showed serious disappointment. "You can't be serious." But Ebonyste didn't do anything but run down the stairs, trip, and tumble down two flights before hitting his head on the door leading to Turret Twelve, Snitchgrass's old classroom.

"I can't believe someone like Ebonyste—a Private Investigator, Slayer, and Repentant Death Eater—would be afraid of something that babyish."

"You never know, mate," Ron said, laughing as the boggart clown started sliding down the staircase rails. "Er…can we continue our fake doppelganger hunt in just a little bit? I've really got to head over to the loo."

"What for?" Hermione asked. "Can't you hold it?"

"I've been holding it since the middle of Hemlock's bloody exam," Ron said. "I can't hold it any longer, alright? Let's find a bathroom as quickly as we can…and I don't care if Beastie ends up being in there!" Harry noticed that his friend was holding his legs together very tightly and definitely looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, alright," Harry said. "I guess it wouldn't kill any of us to take a bathroom break and then find one of those boggarts." Ron looked very much relieved that Hermione and Harry both had decided to temporarily call it quits in favor of the toilet. Harry suddenly remembered that most of the teachers had their living quarters up here, and that the men's room was at the very end of the hall.

"It's that way, Ron. I'd know because I've been up here before…just not in this part of the floor." Ron sprinted down the hallway, his tennis shoes leaving mud prints in that platinum white carpet with every step he took. His friend opened the door to the restroom with glee, and then something unexpected happened. Before Hermione and Harry could catch up to Ron, there was a quick scream…and then the sound of a body falling to the floor. It seemed Ron had just found the doppelganger…and it wasn't one of Dr. Hemlock's decoys.

_**hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp**_

_Hello again my fellow Nemesarists. Hm...I wonder what could have happened to Ron? It appears that he has truly run into the real doppleganger...and if so, then...he's really dead at this moment. I guess we'll have to find out for sure in the next chapter. Now...on the the bribery...LOL...if you guys who are still reading will review...I'll update the next chapter in a week or so. If I don't receive any updates...like the last 3 times I've updated, I may not post for a while...if at all. _

_I'm sorry...but I'm extremely disappointed in the lack of response for my story. I worked so hard on this...and it appears that hardly anyone is interested. I know it's not your run of the mill Harry Potter story, but I honestly think that's what makes it special. So. Please...please...review. I want to know what you all think!!_

_Thanks go out to Nita, my best friend and beta. She has continued to post my chapters for me without fail...and I couldn't have done this without her! _

_Take care everyone...and remember to review if you want the next chapter to post within the next week or two!!! Professor Skylarke_


	47. Chapter 46

_**Warning: Character deaths! If this bothers you, please skip this chapter.**_

Chapter Forty-six:

The Doppelganger and the Requiem Hereafter

"RON!" Harry and Hermione shouted, horrified at what had just happened. They both rushed over to their friend as swiftly as they could, but it was too late; Ron had looked at the face of the doppelganger, which had shifted into him.

"Ron is…is he really…?"

"I think so," Hermione said, trying to find a pulse but to no avail. "Harry, one of us has to stay here and subdue this thing while the other goes for help—"

"We can't do that!" Harry shouted, looking at the lifeless body of his first true friend. "If it sees only one person, it'll shift into that person and that makes it even more dangerous! That's how it got Ron. As long as there are two people in its sight, I don't think it can shift into either one of us successfully. How about we go get help and drag it along?"

"I don't think that's going to work." Hermione looked absolutely frightened. "Our only hope of getting someone in here is to split up. Harry, you go get whoever's close enough to come quickly up here while I distract this bloody thing!"

"Will you be alright?" Harry asked, terrified of the thought that he might lose Hermione also. He had just lost Ron, and he didn't want to deal with the loss of both of his best friends.

"I promise," Hermione said, patting her friend on the shoulder. "I got the best marks on that pop quiz, you know…I even did better than you and Cassandra."

It was clear she was scared, but Harry could tell she was trying to look brave, just to calm _him_ down. "Now go get those other people, okay? Get whoever is close by!"

Harry didn't waste any time in running to go get help. '_Please let her be alright,_' he thought to himself, his brow breaking into a sweat, '_don't let her end up like Sargon._'

"IS ANYONE THERE?!" he shouted. "ANYBODY! HELP! WE FOUND THE REAL DOPPELGANGER!"

He could hear the sound of hurried footsteps trudging up the staircases and soon found himself facing Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy.

"I'm not playing around; Hermione's alone in there, trying to stall it."

"I thought Granger was smarter than that," Malfoy said, looking about as scared as Harry. "So…it's really up there?"

"Yes!" Harry was beginning to panic; it would be horrible having nobody to help him and Hermione except Malfoy and his cronies. "Where's everyone else?"

"How should I know?" Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle and said, "Did either of you see anyone?"

"I did," Goyle admitted. "Apathy and Zabini are a floor down, and—"

"I heard screaming," Blaise said, running up the stairs. Rhianna soon followed. Both were gasping for air. "What's going on?"

"Potter found the doppelganger," Malfoy explained, "and he left Granger to fend for herself."

"How could you do that to her?" Rhianna looked outraged. "Poor Hermione is probably dead by now!" She turned toward Blaise and said, "Here's the plan, see? I'm going with Harry, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle to help Hermione fight the doppelganger and keep it busy. You're going to run around the school as fast as you can, getting as many people as you can to come up here. Even if you can only get that quirky house elf to come up here, he'd be better than nothing." She gave her friend a push and said, "GO!"

Blaise sat on the rail of the staircase and slid down like the clown had done, and Harry noticed that it was much quicker than climbing down the stairs. "Thanks for getting him to do that, Rhianna," Harry said. "Now let's try to save Hermione before it's too late and—"

"Where was Weasley in all of this?" Malfoy looked at Harry sharply. "He's usually tagging along with you and Granger, so where was he?"

"The doppelganger got him." Harry was very tempted to lock himself up in a room all by himself and cry it out, but he knew that a horrible creature like a doppelganger wouldn't stop harming people just because he wanted to mourn his friend.

They all ran over toward where the top floor men's room was, and found Ron's lifeless body lying on the floor…and Hermione was right next to him, dead also. Harry was so stunned by losing both friends, he couldn't get anything to come out of his mouth save his own breath, and even that was hard to do. He felt like he had lost the last thing he had wanted to protect; first Ron, and only minutes later, Hermione. Deep inside, it felt like his heart was slowing down and would stop beating at any moment.

However, the air was still a little unusual for some odd reason; the doppelganger was still there. Harry couldn't see it, but he could feel it; the thing that had killed the two people he cared about most had not left.

"I know you're in there!" Harry shouted, peering his head into the men's lavatory. "You can't hide."

"Harry? Is that you?" Hermione's voice called from in one of the bathroom cubicles. "I've been hiding out in here, in case I didn't fully kill that thing—"

"POTTER! DON'T YOU DARE GO IN THERE!" a raspy female voice shouted from the staircase area. Then there were the faint patter of footsteps, and the hideous Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher arrived to join the group. "I saw everything through the mirror in my room, and I got here as fast as I could."

Harry turned around to see Dr. Hemlock's already unattractive face distorted into an expression of pain and sorrow…tears leaked from those seemingly inhuman eyes. "I'm never going to forgive myself for what happened to poor Mr. Weasley, but don't make the same mistake as your friends."

"I'm alright, Professor Hemlock," Hermione squeaked from the bathroom. "I was able to knock out the doppelganger and—"

"LIAR!" Dr. Hemlock boomed. There was something different about her, and then Harry realized he had never seen the teacher as angry as she was now. The lights seemed to dim and the air felt like it had dropped in temperature, and Dr. Hemlock had transformed—in Harry's mind—into a force nobody wanted to reckon with.

"I SAW IT ALL THROUGH THAT ENCHANTED GLASS, AND YOU'RE NOT MISS GRANGER!" There was an almost demented tainting in her voice as she laughed evilly. "So now, I come face-to-face with my enemy…the thing I've been warning everyone about for months! COME ON OUT AND FACE ME, YOU DEMON OF HELL!"

"Professor, you're really beginning to scare me," Hermione said, sounding very scared. "Harry, don't you think she's finally gone a bit too dotty for her own good?"

"Er…"

"Potter, that isn't your friend," Dr. Hemlock snapped. "That's the doppelganger, I tell you! Don't let it trick you!"

"Ask me something only the _real_ Hermione would know, Harry," Hermione said. "Professor Hemlock's beginning to scare me."

"Alright," Harry said. "What Potion did we make in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom in secret when we were Second Years?"

"Don't fall for that bullshit, Potter," Dr. Hemlock said, pulling her wand out of her coat pocket. "Doppelgangers are much better imitations than gorgonixes…and you saw how well those things work! Everything Granger knew, the doppelganger now knows. Just attack it and—"

"IT WAS THE POLYJUICE POTION!" Hermione shouted. "Harry, stop Professor Hemlock before she does something crazy." She looked at him with teary eyes. "Please…don't hurt me. I'm your friend…and Ron wouldn't want you to lose the _both_ of us."

Harry's palms were getting sweaty as he held his wand tightly. His grasp was so firm that he could feel his pulse slowly beating in both hands. "I already did," he said nervously, and added—still disbelieving just a smidgen—a few parting words, "and you're not Hermione."

"Harry, please, I've been hiding in here and—"

"_Avada—"_

"HARRY! NO!" Hermione left the cubicle and looked directly into Harry's eyes. "I'm so afraid…don't hurt me…"

Harry lowered his wand, and he felt his heart sink even deeper. He couldn't do it, even if it _was_ the doppelganger. There was no way he could take the chance and end up killing his only remaining best friend. "Professor, I'm sorry; I can't kill her."

"YOU TENDER-HEARTED IMBECILE!" Dr. Hemlock yowled, shoving Harry behind her as she dragged Hermione out of the bathroom and into the hall. "GET OUT OF MY WAY AND LET ME SHOW YOU HOW THIS IS DONE!"

"HARRY! HELP ME!" Hermione screamed. Her wand was shaking in her hands. "I don't know how to stop her! TELL HER I'M THE REAL HERMIONE GRANGER!"

"DON'T HURT HER!" Harry grabbed Dr. Hemlock's almost skeletal middle and shoved her into the bathroom.

"Don't you understand?" Dr. Hemlock's voice was filled with fury. "That demon is going to shift into someone else soon, right after she gets bored being Miss Granger—"

"Potter, quit being stupid and let Dr. Hemlock stop the doppelganger," Malfoy spat. "She's trying to be the hero!"

"_FATIGUES MAXIMUS!_" Hermione shouted, casting a spell on Dr. Hemlock, and watched with delight as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher fell to the ground, seemingly dead. "Harry, let's get out of here and tell Dumbledore that we killed the doppelganger—"

"There it is!" Blaise shouted, running down the hall with numerous students, and about half of the faculty. "BLOCK IT SO IT CAN'T GET OUT!"

"Zabini, thank you for informing us about this." Snape looked very pale as he saw the two Gryffindors lying in the hall, and then gasped when he saw, "DR. HEMLOCK!" He looked at the Hermione doppelganger and drew out his wand. "Everyone, stand back! I'm going to kill it, since Potter's too cowardly—"

"I'm not a coward!" Harry argued. "It's just that—"

Everyone watched as the doppelganger shifted from the form of Hermione to the form of Cassandra. "Going to kill me, Severus?" The solemn, sad voice sounded just like the grim Slytherin girl. Snape's wand lowered, and the doppelganger just continued to play around. "Blaise, how could you?"

Harry then realized that doppelgangers did more than take on the identity of the person they chose to shift into…they also had some way of manipulating people into believing they were the real person. Even if the others knew it was the doppelganger, in the form of a loved one, there was no way to kill it; a certain part of the mind was so sentimental that it would be hypnotized into thinking the doppelganger to be the real person. He knew everyone had seen the doppelganger shift, but everyone who was attached to Cassandra—at least by a little bit—couldn't harm the demonic being, as he couldn't when it had been Hermione. "Someone get Lisa up here!" he shouted, looking around. "Is Lisa in the crowd?"

"Yeah," Lisa, said, walking up to the front. "I'm right here. What do you need, Harry?" She looked very excited that Harry had called her up there, and her lipstick-red lips curled up into a Marilyn Monroe-type smile.

"The doppelganger shifted into Cassandra," Harry said, "and you're a smart girl. How about you kill it?"

"Why can't you do that?" Lisa countered. "You're The Boy Who Lived, remember?"

"Before it shifts into someone else, only someone who truly hates Cassandra with a passion can kill it," Harry said. "That would be you."

"Damn right it would be!" Lisa giggled as she pulled out her slender beech-wood wand. "Er…Harry? Where is it?"

Harry turned around to see that the doppelganger had blended in with the crowd and was walking around with them. There were also numerous bodies…about a dozen more of them than there had been only a minute ago. "See the bodies?"

"How can I not?" Lisa looked disgusted.

"If you see someone who's down there, dead, and also see the person in the crowd, it's the doppelganger. Got it?" Harry didn't get a response. "Lisa?" Still, no response. "LISA?!" He turned around to see Lisa had also fallen down and died. However, he also saw Lisa in the crowd, standing right behind Snape. "PROFESSOR SNAPE!" Harry called out; he didn't care how much he hated Snape, he didn't want anyone else to die. "IT'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

"_Pernicia Mortem,_" Snape calmly said, pointing the tip of his wand behind him. There was a thud, and then Lisa began to decompose rapidly until only the skeleton remained. It fell to the ground, along with nearly a dozen people (most of which Harry was familiar with) who were already dead. "See?" Snape smirked at Harry and said, "I told you I'd kill it."

hphphphphphphphphphp

"Everyone, it has been a terrible Friday evening indeed," Dumbledore said tearily that night at dinner. "We have good news, and bad news…a hero to be acknowledged, and several victims to recognize. The good news is that while Dr. Hemlock had the Sixth Years performing her Doppelganger Safety Exercise concerning the boggarts as substitutes, there were three students who discovered the real doppelganger, and it has been destroyed."

"What's the bad news, Headmaster?" Stanzi asked, clearly oblivious as to what had happened.

"We have lost fourteen people—thirteen students and a professor—to the doppelganger tonight, and our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is in the Infirmary, unconscious. According to Vincent Crabbe, the doctor fainted when she saw the doppelganger, instead of dying. She'll regain consciousness pretty soon, or at least that is what Madame Pomfrey has told me. Professor McGonagall and I have several families to write letters to tonight, concerning the deaths of their children." Dumbledore lowered his head and said, "Pinned on the door is a list of all who died just an hour ago. However, we have the comfort of knowing Hogwarts is now safe, thanks to the heroics of the Head of the Slytherin House. While everyone else was panicking and lowering their guards, Professor Snape actually managed to destroy the doppelganger before it could take a fifteenth victim. He has been given the Teacher of the Year 1996-1997 Award for this duty to the school, made an Order of Merlin Second Class, as well as an increase in his salary…as well as something else I will cover on the last day of school."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape said politely from his seat at the far left end of the teachers' table. Harry noticed that Snape didn't look too upset about the deaths, but rather smug about being made a hero.

"However, a little bird—literally, everyone, it was our dear Crow Animagus of an Exorcism teacher—told me that Professor Snape probably would have been the fifteenth victim, and more would have soon followed if it hadn't been for the quick wit of Harry Potter. Gryffindor will be awarded one hundred and fifty points for Harry's observation of the doppelganger being behind Professor Snape. Also, another one hundred and fifty will be added for the selflessness and courage of Hermione Granger, who laid down her life so Harry could get reinforcements and lead to the demise of the being who plagued our school." Dumbledore sounded very grave as he added, "I'm going to have to write down something I regret having to write to all these parents and guardians…the option of Resurrection by our very own Professor Ahsimal." The Headmaster looked sadly at the vampire and said, "Darius, you're the last hope for all those victims…you don't have any problem with bringing back those people, do you?"

"I am not going to make any guarantees," was Darius's cold response. "I don't even know who all died. If I find out one of those people who tried to kill me earlier this year died, he or she can stay dead. I'll admit it, Albus; I'm not as quick as Sargon to forgive foes." He glared at Ebonyste (who looked quite afraid of Darius) and then took his seat in the corner, putting on a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes.

"All we can do now is eat dinner, and think about all the great memories we have had of all those who have fallen this year," Dumbledore said. "It may be our worst enemy, or even our best friend, so let's all remember the good and leave the bad for later."

Throughout the whole dinner, Harry kept looking at Darius, wondering what was going through a Necromancer's head. How he wished he had that sort of power…Darius Ahsimal was a person he actually had grown to admire; if only he, Harry, could have the ability to bring back his friends, parents, or anyone else he grew to care about over the years. Oh, how he coveted that pale blood-drinker for what he could do! Suddenly, he was tapped on the shoulder by Cassandra, who was holding something tightly in her hands. "What's that?"

"It's the list of casualties," Cassandra said. "Sorry I wasn't there; Blaise couldn't find me _or_ Neville, since we were looking around in the Labyrinth." Harry noticed that her usually firm face was flooded with tears. "I'm so sorry about Ron and Hermione…I treasured them as friends also."

"How about you and I visit Darius after dinner?" Harry asked, his heart feeling even heavier as he read the list of names:

**Lisa Turpin**, Ravenclaw Sixth Year

**Ron Weasley**, Gryffindor Sixth Year

**Hermione Granger**, Gryffindor Sixth Year

**Atticus Shadow IX,** Gryffindor Seventh Year

**Josh Goldman**, Hufflepuff Seventh Year

**Draco Malfoy**, Slytherin Sixth Year

**Marcus Cantarus**, Slytherin Sixth Year

**Rick Fallowin**, Slytherin Fourth Year

**Giselle Acheron**, Gryffindor First Year

**Cho Chang**, Ravenclaw Seventh Year

**Nicholas Butler**, Ravenclaw First Year

**Agnes Spittens**, Hufflepuff Third Year

**Justin Finch-Fletchley**, Hufflepuff Sixth Year

**Hannah Abbott**, Hufflepuff Sixth Year

**Professor Skylarke**, Alumnus of Slytherin House

"This isn't happening," Harry told himself, knowing it was a lie. Even Morty had lost to that demon! "I'll wake up…I know I'll wake up and this will all be nothing but a dream…"

"No, this is reality," Cassandra grimly told him. "You said you wanted to talk to Darius?"

"Yes," Harry said, re-reading how many of those people were his friends, or people he was at least going to miss. "Will that be a problem?"

"If you don't want to attend Nemesarium," Cassandra admitted, "that _will_ be a problem. Something tells me that tonight is going to be a Meet."

"I'll go to the Meet," Harry decided. "I need to talk to Darius." He didn't care if it meant spending an entire late night with a crowd of teachers he knew would be mourning the loss of Morty; Darius was the person he wanted to talk to the most. "Hold on…Cassandra?"

"Mmm?" Cassandra replied, looking through one of her many Dark Arts books.

"Do you know how to do a Complex Resurrection?"

"Yes," Cassandra admitted. "I do…and I was thinking about going out to where those bodies are and bringing back Ron and Hermione."

"Do you know how to do that safely?" was Harry's next question.

"No," Cassandra also admitted. "But I can try my best. They'll probably end up like Professor Skylarke, but we don't want them Dead, now do we?"

"Never mind," Harry said, disgusted. "I think we might want to ask Darius to do that."

"Yeah," Cassandra agreed. "I'm not that great of a Necromancer yet."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "You're in Darius's top two."

"So what? That doesn't make me anywhere near as good as him or Professor Skylarke," Cassandra looked down and began to cry even more. She got up and sniffled a bit. "Excuse me…I'm going to the girls' room to dry my eyes."

Harry felt horrible; several of his friends had died…and everything had just been beginning to go back to normal! Around this time last year, Sirius had died, but now he was back, and spending much more time with Remus and Wormtail than him…and now Ron and Hermione were dead, as was Morty, a teacher who had seen past the heroic guise and saw a side of Harry that even he could have never figured out. So many were gone now, and his whole world was shattered…would he lose Ginny, Luna, or Neville to something else in the near future? What about Cassandra? She had risked her life for him once, with Parenein…would she have to do it again? Would defeating the Dark Lord solve all his problems, or would he continue his suffering? There were a few words Lisa had only spoken to him earlier that week in Divination, almost foreshadowing: "Necromancers are scary folk, and most of them live wealthy but frightening lives…"

"Harry?" Neville interrupted Harry's chain of thought. "Are you okay?"

"No," Harry said, looking at his food; it was one of Ron's favorites. "I don't think I'll ever be okay again, Neville, to be honest with you."

hphphphphphphphphphphp

That night, Harry had decided to go to Nemesarium with Cassandra. If it was the only way he could see Darius, so be it; he had actually grown a bit attached to several of the Nemesarists, especially the man who had founded the group. He was the first one to get in Fenrir's room, and then Aurelius flew through the window. A moment later, the Exorcism teacher and former Azkaban inmate was sitting in Fenrir's favorite chair, burying his face in his large, slightly-tanned hands. He didn't say anything to Harry, but just looked as miserable as a man could possibly be. "Aurelius?" Harry tapped the teacher on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Aurelius didn't even look up.

"You smelly bum!" Fenrir thundered, and dragged Aurelius out of his chair. "You stay the hell out of my favorite chair!" His face was a bit more flesh-colored than Harry was used to seeing, and noticed how sallow his cheeks were; it was clear that Fenrir had cried a little, but Harry also knew Fenrir wasn't the type to admit to such activity. He had a blue candle in his hand, and then Harry noticed that Aurelius was holding a red one.

"Severus, Darius, and the others will be arriving shortly." He then saw Harry and said, "Hey, I haven't seen you attend a Nemesarium, Potter, since January. Decided to join up?"

Harry shook his head to indicate that wasn't why he was here. "I came so I could talk to Darius and plead for the lives of my two best friends."

"I pleaded with him to speak with my older daughters," Fenrir said, "and he begged them on my behalf to consider living again…both denied they wanted that." He sighed heavily, and then tossed himself into that chair he treasured. He then pulled a lever to make the footstool part rise up. "The only reason we're continuing this Nemesarium tonight is to discuss who will be the one to Resurrect Morty…or if he even wants that. If not, someone else is going to take the reigns."

Harry didn't like the sound of Fenrir's voice, and especially didn't like what he was hinting at…"So he might not be coming back?"

"That's right," Snape said, entering the room with Cassandra. Stanzi arrived shortly after that, as did Andromache Morgan, Aldebaran Black, Lydia Von Dorian, Celeste Fenrir, Rhianna, Blaise, all respectively in that order. Still, there was no sign of Darius…but Snape, Lydia, Madame Morgan, and Celeste were carrying the handles to a stretcher, which carried something Harry had not wanted to see up close…the cold, unfeeling corpse of Mortimer Skylarke.

"This was not a petty death, no matter what the Daily Prophet had to say about it!" Aldebaran snarled. "I taught Morty's Manipulations class around the end of his Hogwarts schooling…and still kept in touch through this makeshift family. Nemesarium's been there for me when nothing else has, and I'm sure Morty had the same thing to say."

"Why's he in here?" Harry asked, confused as to why the corpse had been smuggled into Fenrir's turret.

"There are three types of Resurrections, you know," Snape said glumly. "Basic, Complex, and Revamp…and Morty's in such horrible shape, that a Revamp is the form he needs to be fully Resurrected." He groaned and added, "I attempted an unshielded Complex Resurrection on him years ago, and you saw what happened, Potter."

Harry sat by the fireplace, blankly staring into the flames, and saw a freshening packet of lemongrass sitting on the top. He grabbed it, and tossed it in the fire. "_Pyrosa Psy,_" he muttered, remembering sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room with Hermione, checking up to see how Cassandra had been faring in Azkaban. He couldn't help it; everything reminded him of Ron and Hermione. Suddenly, the flames went purple, and he peered in, making sure the flames didn't touch him. In there, deeply, he could see his friends, along with Malfoy and the other newly deads, in the Necropolis, looking at the buildings in awe and confusion. It was perfectly clear some of them had no idea what had hit them, and most probably didn't even know they had seen the doppelganger and died. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, and he knew that none of them could hear him either, but it was just a bit comforting to see Ron and Hermione smiling and walking around, instead of lying on the floor lifelessly.

"Er…Potter, could you come over here?" Fenrir asked. "Since Morty's not around anymore, we've all decided that Severus should be our new leader. Of course, Morty would argue that he never was the leader of Nemesarium, but we all treated him like it just the same. In his eyes, he was an equal, but to us…he was the founder and led us to this, so he was our leader. But now that he's gone, and none of us know where the bloody Hell Darius wandered off to, Severus will be leading us. He was the last to see Morty alive, and the last to talk to him. Apparently, some of his final words dealt with you."

Harry walked up toward Snape—the new Lord of Nemesarium—and grimly asked, "What did Morty have to say about me?" Snape looked just about as upset as Harry, and then it dawned on the Gryffindor that the Head of Slytherin probably felt the same way he did; a best friend—a person who had been there when family hadn't, and had made an impact on the life and existence—had died and could not be replaced. Instead of saying anything to Harry, or even looking at him, Snape closed his eyes, turned away, but opened up his right hand in front of Harry to reveal a Nemesarist's Ring. "He still wanted me to join?"

"Morty never gave up on you," Snape said, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'd killed him before, after years of friendship, and he never gave up on me…but you, you're different. You're so different from the rest of us, Potter, that Morty couldn't help but like you. He saw something so unique, so spectacular in you…and he wanted all of us to know that a spot in Nemesarium would always be open to any person he could trust and like. You were one of those people, and although you decided not to join us back in January, he still hoped you would."

"I—"

"I wasn't finished," Snape said, turning to face Harry. "If you join us, nobody in here—no matter what—shall harm you or betray you without paying for it after Death. Nobody would know but us, and you, and the power you would need to defeat the Dark Lord cannot be given to you in any other way I know of…at least, not in time. You can continue to pretend to be a true hero and live in denial, Potter, but the Dark Arts are where you thrive." His dark, unfathomable eyes looked directly into Harry's emerald ones, and his beaky nose touched the tip of Harry's. "Listen to me carefully, because I'm only going to say this once; it was Morty's last statement about you."

"I'm listening," Harry said, beginning to sweat.

"He told me that he wanted you to learn the Dark Arts as best you could, knowing that you'd use them in the right ways," Snape said, "and he wanted all of us in Nemesarium to help you as best we could, even if you never joined us."

Harry's jaw dropped, and his eyes began to water up even more as he graciously took the pewter-and-obsidian ring from Snape's hand and placed it on his left middle finger. "I'll do it; I'll be a Nemesarist."

"Did I hear what I _think_ I just heard?" Darius asked, slinking into the classroom with the quietest of door-creakings. "Did I hear Harry say he's become a Nemesarist?"

"Yes," Harry said, showing his left hand to Darius so the vampire could see he wore the ring. Darius's eyes widened, he blinked heavily once, and then a smile came across his face. He rushed up to Harry and embraced him. "Aw…come on, Darius; I'm not like that…"

"It wasn't a boyfriend-type hug," Darius argued, laughing a little. "It was only a friendly embrace…I do that to everyone who joins Nemesarium."

"The best embrace I ever had," Cassandra said, a nostalgic tone to her voice. She still had a tearstained face, as did everyone except Darius. "How can you laugh at a time like this? Even _Morty's_ dead, Darius!"

"Really?" Darius asked, the smile wiped cleanly off his face. "Where is he?" He looked about curiously, until Snape pointed in the direction of the windowsill of the very large stained glass window. Morty was simply lying there, not moving, his jacket, scarf, shirt, and gloves removed. The rotting body was even more to fuel Harry's sorrow; he knew that someday, Ron and Hermione would be in the same shape as the dead Curses & Rootwork teacher…stage three decomposition.

"Oh, there he is," Darius didn't sound too thrilled. "So what do you want me to do? Resurrect him in front of all of you?"

"YES!" Snape said, shoving Darius even closer to the body. "Darius, that's a no-brainer. It wouldn't hurt for us to learn how to complete a Revamp Resurrection. Complex Resurrections are for well-preserved corpses who have been around for quite some time, and Basic Resurrections are for first-time fresh kills."

"Are you serious?" Harry's eyes lit up with excitement at those words. "I know how to perform a Basic Resurrection!"

"Not safely," Darius added, holding his nose as he came closer to Morty's body. "He smells worse than any other body I've come into contact with…no wonder those Gore Crows loved to try to eat him."

He took the teacher's glasses off and closed his eyelids. Harry was glad; it was painful to look into those slightly-clouded jade eyes, knowing Morty didn't see him in return. Darius narrowed his eyes and looked around the room. "There's no relatives left, are there?"

Aurelius looked very unhappy as he announced, "Marcus Cantarus was the last living blood relative, seeing as he was Morty's nephew—"

Snape cut Aurelius short. "By his sister Stella Piper, I bet."

"Er…yeah," Aurelius said. "So there is nobody alive related to Morty anymore."

"The person he treated like his own child, then," Cassandra said. "I remember that part." She looked around, and then her eyes focused on Harry. "Harry, Darius needs you. Morty admired you and admitted that he wished he'd had a son like you before in Nemesarium…so that means you."

"What do you need, Darius?" Harry asked, unsure of what the vampire was going to do. Suddenly, he felt two small sharp objects (they felt like a pair of jackknives) sink into his neck. The pain was intense, and he couldn't help but scream.

"If you willingly give your blood, it'll stop hurting," Fenrir told Harry. "So calm down, and let Darius take three ounces from you. If you don't calm down, I bet that's going to continue to hurt for quite some time." Harry took a deep breath and concentrated on the fact that he was helping bring back his older friend. Darius needed his blood. The pain immediately stopped, and was replaced by a feeling similar to receiving an IV at a hospital; it was calm and relaxing.

After Darius's fangs sprung out of Harry's neck, Harry was relieved and went to sit back down. Darius then rubbed his hands in the blood (it showed up very well on his hands, seeing as they were white as snow until Harry's blood got on them) and picked up Morty, obviously about to vomit or faint from the pungent odor of decay.

"_Deuxius Mortata, Deuxius Durare,_" he chanted in a bittersweet voice, soft and slightly poisonous. After that, he pulled a small flute out of his bag and played a very melancholy tune.

"Awake, and return to us, Mortimer Skylarke; your time in this world is not yet over." Harry's eyes widened in amazement as the blood on Darius's hands absorbed into Morty's body, and he could see the organs inside the decomposing mess beginning to rejuvenate…it was almost like looking through one of those glass anatomy men, only it was actually functioning. Darius placed Morty back on the windowsill, and leaned over toward his face. Harry saw Darius's mouth touch Morty's thin sallow lips and it looked like the vampire had just kissed the corpse. It was enough to make everyone gag.

"Did you _kiss_ him?!" Harry was confused with that action.

"Unlike the Kiss of Death, which is a Curse one uses to make a kiss deadly to the person being kissed, this is the Kiss of Life," Darius explained. "You blow a little bit of air into the mouth as your lips touch the cadaverous ones, and it'll get the lungs to start working. See? Look at Morty's chest."

Harry looked to see not only that Morty had begun to breathe again, but he was in better shape than he had been before he'd been Resurrected; Darius had been able to break the decomposition and fully Resurrect him! Morty was no longer a rejuvenated corpse, but a truly Resurrected man.

"Now, it'll take a little while for Sleeping Beauty here to wake up, but won't _he_ be surprised!"

"Darius, you're a genius," several of the Nemesarists said merrily. "A true genius."

"No, I'm not like a genius." Darius admitted, and then patted Snape on the shoulder. "You see, Severus; I'm more like a Necromantic Windex; I've just cleaned up the mess you left behind."

Snape just scowled at Darius, and then couldn't hold that look any longer, and burst out in laughter. And that was what woke Morty up. "

Oooo! Welcome back, Morty!"

He then pointed a finger at Snape and said, "Sorry, pal; you've just been demoted."

"Demoted?" Morty asked, looking about, not knowing what that meant in this case. "What was he promoted to?"

"He was the leader of Nemesarium while you were going through yet another rigor mortis," Lycaon admitted, looking about as smug as Snape had been immediately after killing the doppelganger.

"Leader?" Morty's eyebrows rose to show he was in a state of disbelief. "We had a leader before that?"

"You," all the Nemesarists said together, except Harry.

"Me?" Morty blinked in disbelief.

"Yes, you."

"No…I wasn't your leader," Morty argued. "I just started the group; we were always on equal level from the newcomers to those who had been here from the beginning!"

"He's in _such_ denial," Blaise whispered to Harry.

"Darius," Harry said, tugging on the vampire's robe. "I was wondering if you could bring back Ron and Hermione."

"I don't know," Darius responded. "I know for a fact that Cantarus and Turpin will be _staying _Dead. How do your friends treat vampires?"

"They were both good friends of Cassandra's, if that answers your question," Harry replied.

"I'll think about it," Darius told Harry as he helped himself to a piece of cake he'd brought into the room for refreshments.

"Aw…come _on!_" Harry shouted angrily. "What's there to think about?"

"One more thing," Darius paused for a moment, and then eyed Harry closely. "Did they participate in the Slayer's Renaissance Day? Don't lie to me…Severus will know if you do or not, and I'm sure he'll tell me if you're lying."

Harry knew there was no way he could lie his way out of this one without getting caught…Ron and Hermione had participated in that day, and he knew it. "Yes, they did—"

"Then my answer is _no_," Darius stated icily. "I'm not going to Resurrect them anytime soon. I might decide to do that this summer if I'm very bored, but I probably won't."

"But—"

"I gave you my answer, Harry," Darius said, folding his arms and going back to eating his cake and sipping out of a thermos. "If it were you who were dead, and they asked me to Resurrect you, there would be no problem. But I know for a fact that Weasley and Granger didn't exactly like me…especially Granger."

hphphphphphphphphphphp

That night, in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry stayed up almost until three in the morning before closing his eyes and drifting off into the world of dreams:

_In his dream that night, he was sitting inside a large cathedral, along with hundreds of other people. Ron, Hermione, Malfoy…they were all there also. _

"_Hello?" Harry said, wondering what exactly was going on. Everyone was dressed all in black, and there didn't seem to be any happy faces. However, he couldn't see the front of the sanctuary, it was so large. _

"_What's going on in here?" he asked Hermione, but she didn't seem to hear him. She cried and sobbed on Ron's shoulder, and Ron had no problem letting her do so. "_

_Hermione?" Harry called out. "Ron? Can you guys hear me?" Neither one did so much as look at him…it was as if they couldn't see or hear him._

_Harry scooted further down the pew and found Malfoy. "Hey there, Malfoy," Harry taunted. "How's it going?" Malfoy didn't even look at him, and Harry looked closer to see he was focusing his attention directly toward the front, which Harry could now see. A casket, adorned with flowers and the Gryffindor coat of arms painted on the top, was in the front and center, and Dumbledore wasn't the person up in the pulpit, but another elderly fellow dressed like a Catholic priest._

"_Father Townsend," Harry heard Dumbledore say, "how about you begin the eulogy for us?"_

"_What a tragic day this is," Father Townsend began, pointing toward the casket, "to lose our last and final hope of destroying the Dark Lord who has plagued the world over."_

"_WHAT?!" Harry shouted, wondering who the bloody hell was in that casket, but he already had a pretty good idea._

"_And dead along with all our hopes and dreams of a world without He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was the one we used to call The Boy Who Lived. Well, my friends, he lives now only in our hearts, minds, and testimonies," Father Townsend continued._

"_No…" Harry said, outraged. "I'm right here! I can't be dead! THAT ISN'T ME!"_

"_There was so much going for young Harry Potter, and it is a shame that his life has been cut short so cruelly—"_

"_I AM NOT DEAD!" Harry shouted angrily. "HOW DENSE ARE YOU PEOPLE?! I AM RIGHT OVER HERE, TALKING AND MOVING AROUND! HOW MUCH MORE ALIVE CAN A PERSON BE?!"_

"…_a life we thought would save us all. It's a pity that none of us got a chance to see him grow, find love, marry, have children, live to see his legend grow. There is nobody in our world who never heard of him, but it's a shame that all we can say is that he survived years ago, but didn't survive the second time around. There were great lessons to be learned with his life, and even in his death—"_

"_This isn't happening," Harry thought in disbelief. "That can't be me in the casket…I'm right here. I'm breathing, seeing, feeling, hearing…I can even smell the flowers and feel the pew I'm sitting in. I'm all here!"_

"_We must all remember him in his greatest hour, and keep him in our hearts. None of us can say he never tried to save the world…"_

_Harry felt his head spinning in disbelief…and then all the sobbing was overcome with the most hideous laughter he had ever heard. He turned around to see Death Eaters everywhere, and each one had a torch in hand. The hoods were pulled down, and then the masks pried off. "_

_He failed miserably, now didn't he?" Harry heard that high-pitched, cold voice say those harsh words, and he turned around to see Voldemort. Harry's jaw dropped in surprise, and then he felt like he was falling into a deep, dark vacuum…like the veil Sirius had fallen into the year before._

"_SOMEBODY HELP ME!" he shouted out, horrified. "LET THIS ALL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A DREAM!"_

"_Harry…" a soft voice called out. Harry looked behind to see Darius, but something was different; the vampire was wearing the robes and garments of people from millennia ago, and some of the strangest gold jewelry he had ever seen on a person. "Harry, give me your hand." Harry refused. "Only I can help you in this case; you've got to come to __**my**__ world."_

"_I AM NOT DEAD!" Harry argued angrily, striking Darius on the face instead of taking his hand. The vampire hissed at him, and then seemed to grow in size._

"_Harry, please, you've got to take my hand…I can make this all better. You just have to trust me."_

"_I can't do that," Harry said, unsure of what was going on. Why was Darius dressed like that? It looked more natural on him than the modern attire, but it was still surprising to see him look so regal._

"_I don't blame you," Darius said sadly, closing his eyes and looking very grieved. His hands were still outstretched toward Harry as he began to vanish. "I was the last one to try to help you, and you turned me away also…farewell."_

_Harry then thought about it, and decided he wanted help. "No, Darius; wait!" He stretched his hands out as far as he could, but he could feel an intense heat—stronger than anything he'd ever imagined—rising up all around him. The place was getting darker, until he looked down to see fire everywhere. People were screaming, burning, yelling, and begging to be given another chance. "DARIUS! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" But it was too late; Darius was already gone, and he was left there in that fire. "DARIUS!? DARIUS!!!"_

He woke up in a cold sweat, realizing he had not only fallen asleep on the couch, but that he had only been asleep for a few hours. His watch read that it was only five-thirty in the morning; he'd only slept for two-and-a-half hours…but somehow, he was filled with energy. Harry had no idea what that dream had been about, or what it meant, but it had sent shivers down his spine, and he still could somewhat feel that fire.

"Oh, you woke up," Morty's voice said in a very soothing way. Harry looked around, but couldn't see the Curses & Rootwork teacher.

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

"Just look in the fireplace, Harry," Morty said, a faint chuckle of amusement in his voice. Harry looked to see Morty's face in the flames; he'd used floo powder, obviously. "Hello."

"Hi," Harry said, a bit confused as to why Morty was looking through there. "How long have you been in there?"

"About an hour," Morty admitted. "I just wanted to see the look on your face as soon as I told you what I did."

"What did you do?" Harry yawn-asked.

"Come to Turret Fifteen to find out," Morty said, sounding very happy about something. Morty was happy, and _that_ was something Harry wasn't too used to seeing; curiosity got the better of Harry, and he started walking out of the Gryffindor Common Room. "Going?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Alright," Morty said. "Door's unlocked."

Harry left the Common Room with nothing more than his wand and Hawkbane Card. If he had the card with him, then teachers wouldn't be able to give him any complaints about running amok late at night; Hawkbane students could do that. Besides, it was a lot easier to carry around than his Invisibility Cloak. The halls were deserted, as were the staircases, but there was a lot of ruckus down on the first floor, where the teachers seemed to be having a very-late-at-night (or very-early-morning, depending on how you look at five-thirty in the morning) meeting of some kind.

"I'm afraid that we're going to have to dispose of her," Dumbledore said sadly. "It's a shame, though; I thought we'd found the perfect teacher for _that_ class."

"Albus, there will be better candidates," McGonagall said calmly. "She may know more, and have found a great way for the students to learn the material by heart, but I am sure she's not the best person for the job."

"So it's settled, then?" Snape asked.

"That's what it sounds like to me," Flitwick piped in.

"I've cast in _my_ vote," Remus barked. "She's out."

"And I'm in?" Snape blurted.

"Not so fast, Severus," Dumbledore halted the Potions Master (who was eager about this whatever-it-was). "She doesn't even know she's going to be fired yet." Harry's ears perked up at this news; somebody was going to be laid off!

"It was only one mistake," Stanzi offered on the person's defense. "Maybe it'll be her only mistake?"

"I doubt that, Constanza," Darius said calmly, "you have no idea how much work that little blunder of hers put on me! I'm not going to be able to sleep for weeks with all the mail I'll be receiving! Besides that, those bloody boggarts are _still_ running amok throughout the school."

"Yeah!" Ebonyste said. "I hate clowns, and next thing I know, after I took a leak, there it was, honking its horn at me!"

"Did you know that Mortimer has been Resurrected?" Snape asked the group. "Darius did that tonight."

"Good for you, Darius!" Dumbledore sounded relieved. "I hope he's alright."

"Oh, he's fine," Darius said, "better than before, actually. I was able to fix his little problem from the neck down that all of us knew about. Something tells me he'll be wearing a short-sleeved shirt to breakfast in a few hours, but he's sleeping it off right now, I think."

"So there's some good news in this after all…"

Harry didn't hear the rest of the conversation; he kept going up the stairs, because he wanted to see what Morty had been up to. Whatever-it-was, he wondered if Snape, Fenrir, and the other Nemesarists knew about it. After heading all the way to Turret Fifteen, Harry found the door was not only unlocked, but open. "Hello?" he called. "Morty, are you in here?"

"Yes, I am," Morty said. "Just come up to my office, okay? I've got to show you something." Harry started walking up the tower's staircase, and he could hear something up there that sounded like a muffled conversation…like a group of people trying to throw a surprise party. As soon as Harry got up there, he walked through the classroom to right outside the teacher's office door.

"Come on in; that door's also unlocked." Harry took a deep breath, expecting close-to-anything to pop out of nowhere as he opened the door to see something that made all of his sorrow go away. "SURPRISE!" Morty shouted out happily, as did two other people…Ron and Hermione.

_Hello everyone!! First of all, let me tell you all that my email address is not working at the moment, so if you need to get a message to me, please contact NitaPotter and she will get the message to me. _

_Now...thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I really do appreciate every single one! I'm sorry I haven't responded like I should. Once I get this email problem situated, I'll be able to contact everyone who has reviewed my fic. _

_A special things to Nita for betaing for me, and for posting my fic to this site. And, another special thanks to everyone who has been reading this fic. Please...don't forget to review! _

_Until next chapter, Professor Skylarke._


	48. Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven:

'Til Divorce Do Us Part

"I didn't tell you straightforward because I wanted to see what you'd do," Morty explained,a large grin on his face. "I'm nowhere near as good as Darius—that's just a rumor a certain somebody started to get me into LéAvíans years ago—but I suffice just fine. I've got my license, and I'm certified, but I doubt you'd want to pick me as a Necromancer over Darius; he's practically got everything under control, and can even repair things on a dead human body that even Muggle cosmetologists would have trouble with on living patients. Look what he did to _me_."

He rolled up his sleeves to show lean, nicely-toned arms. "It's been quite some time since I was not afraid to show off any skin besides my face."

He gave Ron and Hermione a quick hug and said, "They may or may not like me, but I don't care; they're your friends, Harry…and I'm your friend also. Any friend of yours, I'd be more than glad to consider a friend of mine."

"I was all wrong about you, Professor Skylarke," Hermione said nicely. "It takes a really noble guy to do what you just did. And Necromancy…I guess it's not as bad as I thought, either."

"I'm sure my Mum's going to be putting you in the Christmas sweater list," Ron said, pointing at the teacher. "You're now a friend to the Weasley family."

"That's nice to know," Morty said nicely. "From what I've heard about your family, they're really nice people. And Ron, if they're anything like you and Ginny, I'd like to meet the rest of them. Ginny's got the highest O.W.L. in my class."

"Are you serious?" Ron asked, his jaw dropping. "I didn't know she liked Curses & Rootwork _that much_…or was even good at it!"

"She's a brilliant young lady," Morty admitted. "Well, it's five-thirty-seven, and sunrise is at six-twenty-three today, so we've got less than an hour before the sun rises; there's no use in going back to sleep for _that_ long."

"Er…" Ron said, "You're not going to hold Slayer's Renaissance Day against us, are you, Professor Skylarke? Professor Ahsimal did, and he was hopping mad about it."

"I'm not," Morty announced. "You see, Darius is quick to anger and slow to forgive; I'm his opposite in that aspect. Besides, it's not like I'm any different from the rest of you anymore."

"That's right," Hermione agreed. "So…now that you're over your problem, are you going to try your hand at dating, Professor?"

"You guys can call me Morty, if you like," Morty said. "Harry's been doing that for months…and he's a friend of mine. And yeah, I think I might try to find a soul mate; it's never too late, you know, for a person to turn up."

"Speaking of people turning up, you're _not_ going to believe what Ebonyste and Nezura are up to," Ron said. "I heard this from Lisa last morning, so I know she'd know, since she's a Ravenclaw." Harry and Hermione—as well as Morty—looked at Ron curiously. "We _all_ know that Ebonyste proposed to Nezura earlier this week, right?"

"Yes." Harry nodded his head. "Continue."

"Well, Lisa told me that they've set a date, and that they have so many planners, that it's already planned," Ron half-laughed at this. "Ebonyste got the house elves to plan his wedding, and he wants it out in front of the school so all of us students can see him say his wedding vows to Nezura. Also, I'm like Lisa in this aspect; I don't think this is going to be an everlasting marriage, like my parents; I bet they'll divorce before this time next year."

"So, when's the wedding?" Hermione asked.

"According to Lisa, it's next Wednesday."

_Cancancancancancancancan_

That Saturday morning, everyone who was still alive went into the Great Hall to eat breakfast. The house elves had made cinnamon rolls with raisins for the teachers and students alike. Harry looked at the list on the door to see how many people were going to be resurrected by Darius:

_Lisa Turpin_ (**No**)

_Ron Weasley_ (**Completed by Professor Skylarke**)

_Hermione Granger_ (**Completed by Professor Skylarke**)

_Atticus Shadow IX_ (**Waiting for Permission**)

_Josh Goldman_ (**Waiting for Permission**)

_Draco Malfoy_ (**Pending**)

_Marcus Cantarus_ (**DEFINITELY NOT**)

_Rick Fallowin_ (**No**)

_Giselle Acheron_ (**Yes**)

_Cho Chang_ (**Yes**)

_Nicholas Butler_ (**Yes**)

_Agnes Spittens_ (**Waiting for Permission**)

_Justin Finch-Fletchley_ (**Completed**)

_Hannah Abbott_ (**Yes**)

_Professor Mortimer Skylarke_ (**Completed**)

So there it was, in plain view, who would be returning to Hogwarts shortly. However, Harry wondered what the word 'pending', meant in this case. Did it mean Darius was working on someone else, and Malfoy would be next?

"And what basis does Darius have for refusing to resurrect certain people? Can he legally do that?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Actually, he can legally turn down whosoever he chooses," Hermione said. "That law was created in the Necromancer Convention of Herculaneum, which he attended."

"I'm glad we had Morty to bring us back." Ron shivered at the thought. "I'm going to apologize to Ahsimal about what I did in his class…including the sticky-tack." He got up out of his seat and said, "Professor Ahsimal?"

"Hmmm…?" Darius's eyes sparkled with amusement as he saw Ron approach him. "Yes? What is it, Weasley?"

"I just wanted you to know," Ron said, "that I don't think badly of you or vampires."

"Okay." Darius had a smile curl up on his lips, and he stretched out his hand to shake with Ron. "Weasley, that's good to know, and it's nice to hear you come tell me that to my face." He then said, "Oh, hey…did you know that you're not going to have a certain somebody here next year?"

"Who?"

"You'll find out once Dumbledore makes his announcement," Darius told Ron. "Now, how about you go sit back down with your friends and finish your breakfast? It's a good one."

Ron sat back down and said, "Well, Darius said he was okay with me now, and that somebody's going to be—"

"Did you find out what the 'pending' meant?" Hermione blurted. "Ron, what did Darius mean by that?"

"I think he meant that he's still debating about whether or not he wants to bring that student back to life," Harry guessed. "At least, that would make sense."

"He's so temperamental," Hermione sighed with exasperation. "He's almost like you, Harry, only a lot worse."

"I'm bad about that?" Harry had no idea.

"You can be," Hermione admitted, "but you're an angel to be around compared to an angry Ahsimal."

"Oh, look!" Neville squeaked happily, next to Cassandra. "It looks like Dumbledore's going to say something!"

"Everyone, I have a bit of good news," Dumbledore said, sounding in much better spirits than the day before. "It has become clear to me that Darius has already resurrected a student, as well as our Curses & Rootwork teacher. I have written emergency letters to the families, and most of them have already written me back, or come here to tell me what it is they want Darius to do. Some have refused to have a child resurrected, and there are a few cases where our Necromancy teacher has refused the option altogether. As you can see on that list, there is a name with the word 'pending' next to it. In case any of you were wondering, that word means that the Malfoys are still debating about whether or not they want to take the risk of resurrection with their child. But I am proud to announce that Justin Finch-Fletchley will be attending his classes like usual on Monday. Also, since he has been resurrected also, Professor Skylarke has brought two students back to us; Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. For this selfless action, Professor Skylarke has just earned two hundred points for Slytherin House, and an increase in salary." Dumbledore looked at Morty in a polite way, as to acknowledge his thanks.

"There's even BETTER news!" Nezura shouted, and several of the Aurors who hadn't left the school yet turned to look at her with curiosity.

"Our Foreign Magic teacher has announced to all of us that this Wednesday, he will be holding his wedding to Mitzi Nezura outside our very own school. All students and teachers are invited to attend."

Dumbledore sighed and looked a bit unsure about that for a moment, but then made the expression disappear, so as not to alarm Nezura or Ebonyste.

"But there is a bit of other news I wish to let out on the table, also. It's also come to my attention that our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has recovered from her fainting spell. So, would Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock come forward, please?"

Dr. Hemlock walked up toward Dumbledore, looking a bit confused as to why. "Yes, Headmaster?" she asked, a suspicious undertone in her rough voice.

"Remember how you said you would be glad to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here as long as you were welcome?" Dumbledore asked Dr. Hemlock, who nodded to indicate she remembered, and wanted to teach for years to come. "I'm sorry, Iphigenia, but that incident yesterday has made it perfectly clear to me and the rest of the school that you are a bit too irresponsible to continue teaching here. We can't have you continue to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dr. Hemlock looked as if someone had smacked her face with brutal force. That expression of shock and surprise even got Harry's eyes to widen. Dr. Hemlock had been the teacher who had given the most detail and thought into her lessons, and was much better than most of the teachers he had taken courses from. And now Dumbledore was going to let her go? Well, it did somewhat make sense; she should have thought about the possibility of having the real doppelganger take advantage of the boggart opportunity.

"Sir, did I hear you correctly?" Dr. Hemlock's bottom lip began to quiver a bit. "You're firing me?"

Dumbledore looked very unhappy about the decision and said, "Good luck to you elsewhere, Iphigenia. I'm sorry."

Harry almost expected the teacher to run out of the Great Hall, bawling like a teething baby, but instead, Dr. Hemlock snuffled it all in, took a deep breath, and slowly (and silently) walked out of the Great Hall, a look of disgusted dignity on her aged face, until she reached the two oak doors.

"You just lost the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher you'll _ever_ have at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore!" she hissed, and then slammed the door.

"My, oh my," Ginny said, blinking. "She took that rather well, didn't she?"

"In other news," Quirrell said, standing up. "I've decided that all of my students have had enough of the C.A.T., so I'm calling it wraps for that test. Enjoy your weekend."

_cancancancancancancan_

Wednesday finally came, and it was a sweltering hot, cloudy, and very humid day. All the students sat in chairs dragged out of classrooms, the Great Hall, the library, and storage rooms, all out on the grassy fields. Ebonyste was there, looking like a very happy groom. Since it was his wedding day, he had combed back his hair and put away not only his dreamcatcher earrings, but also his sunglasses, to show off his shimmering blue eyes. A big, almost dopey grin was on his face, and he didn't even look like the same fellow without his hippie attire. Dr. Hemlock had not come to the wedding; although Dumbledore had told her she'd be welcome at Hogwarts until the end of the school year, she packed everything up and left for the next train that fateful Saturday she learned she'd lost her job. It was a pity, but nothing anyone else could help; she had, after all, been very irresponsible.

The sunburned bridesmaids stood out there, already waiting for the entire ceremony to be over. Their pink dresses were drenched with sweat, and a few had their hair doing weird things due to the humidity. To make sure nobody fainted due to heat stroke, McGonagall had passed out fans to the bridesmaids, groomsmen, audience, and even the gaunt Catholic priest who would be performing the service. Harry recognized the man from one of his dreams…that had to be Father Townsend, Aurelius's friend and Morty's priest. Right before Father Townsend could begin the service, there was the sound of thunder, and then a few drops of water stuck onto Harry's glasses; it had begun to rain.

"Oh, dear," Father Townsend said, "this isn't a good sign, everyone."

"What?" Nezura squeaked. "I'm marrying Don, alright?!"

"Perhaps we should have it indoors," Father Townsend offered. He looked very tired, and not interested in the least with being at Hogwarts.

"Don." Dumbledore approached the unhappy groom. "I hate to see your parade get rained on, but—"

"It's not raining on my _parade_," Don said, his ears drooping in dismay. "This is worse; it's raining on my damn _wedding_!"

"Cheer up," Aurelius told the half-fairy. "Look on the bright side, okay? In this rain, you can see underneath Mitzi's bridal gown and get a _good look_ at that red thong." That only got Ebonyste to threaten Aurelius with a fist.

"We'll just move the ceremony into the Great Hall," Father Townsend said, pulling out a worn-out, gray umbrella. "It's not a big deal."

"If anyone wants a seat," Dumbledore began, "he or she will carry a chair inside."

Everyone ran back to the castle as fast as they could, trying to get out of the rain. Make-up was running, outfits were soaking, glasses were attracting water beads and fogging up, and people were falling into puddles. A very wet wedding party finally made it into the Great Hall, and when Madame Twitchett (freed from Atticus's petrification glare) began to play the Wedding March from _Lohengrin_, everyone could not only see Mitzi as a soaking wet bride with her wedding gown clinging to her tiny body, but they could hear her shoes make squishing noises and saw the puddles left behind by each and every step.

"Witches and Wizards, we are gathered here today…" Father Townsend began, and then Harry began to close his mind to the droning voice and think of something interesting to kill time until Ebonyste and Nezura exchanged their vows. He finally decided that he'd try to remember the Seven Unnatural Laws of Necromancy while Father Townsend went through everything about Holy Matrimony, so on and so forth.

Once it got to the part where Father Townsend got to the "I Do" part of the ceremony, Harry focused his concentration on Nezura and Ebonyste, wondering if this was going to go as planned, since everything else had gone haywire.

"Do you, Mitzi Katherine Nezura, take this er…_man_—I was right in saying _man_, wasn't I? I've never wed a half-fairy before—Adonis Kevin Ebonyste as your lawfully wedded husband, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in wealth in poverty, 'til death do you part?"

"I do!" Nezura shouted loudly. There were a few laughs from the crowd at her eagerness. Harry looked at the happy, but definitely _wet_, bride and could see she was getting a bit impatient. Nezura looked at Ebonyste with anxious eyes and a wide, almost stupidly large, grin.

"And you, Adonis Kevin Ebonyste, do you take this woman, Mitzi Katherine Nezura, to be your lawfully wedded wife, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in wealth and poverty, 'til death do you part?"

"Um…" Ebonyste said, looking around nervously. "I—"

"DON!" Nezura shouted, and then flung her dripping bouquet at him. "YOU HESITATED!"

She then began to look very unhappy and quite outraged. A trembling finger was pointed at Ebonyste, and Nezura's voice began to waver.

"You…you don't want to marry me!"

"Yes, I do!" Ebonyste argued. "Mitzi, I love you!"

"THEN WHY DID YOU HESITATE?!" Nezura bellowed, her face turning very red. She was jumping up and down, stomping her squishing feet. Harry couldn't help but think the bride would catch pneumonia from that dress.

"Um…I was just nervous!" Ebonyste told Nezura.

"Oh _sure you were_!" Nezura hissed. "You just hesitated again!"

"I'm tired of you accusing me," Ebonyste snarled. "You always think that if I take time to answer something that I don't love you. What a bunch of bull, Mitzi!"

Nezura simply pouted.

"Mr. Ebonyste, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Father Townsend repeated.

Ebonyste looked at the angry little Auror and then said calmly, "I don't. Wedding's off."

"WHAT?!" Nezura and the crowd shouted in shock.

"I'm not going to marry a grumpy little pipsqueak who accuses me of not loving her," Ebonyste explained. "She should know I love her and accept it…and quit harping at me for _not_ loving her, _because it isn't true_!"

Nezura hit Ebonyste very hard with her bouquet of roses again, and water droplets flew in all directions. She then flung it into the crowd and it landed in Darius's lap. He complained about the flowers soaking his new khakis and ruining his silk shirt, but he kept them anyway.

"Well, Darius," Harry heard Morty say jokingly, "that means you'll be the next happy person to get married, according to the traditional tale."

"That's not going to happen _any _time soon!" Darius chirped and threw the bouquet again, this time hitting Quirrell directly in the face. There was a loud yowl of pain, since nobody had taken the thorns off the roses.

"Damn," Morty teased again. "You've got _bad_ aim."

Stanzi peeled the bouquet off of Quirrell and threw it _again_ into the crowd. "HE'S ALREADY MARRIED!"

This time, Malfoy (who had been Resurrected by Darius only a day or two earlier) caught it.

"Way to go, Draco!" Stanzi whooped.

Malfoy just looked at those flowers and turned red in the face…almost as red as the flowers. It was clear he didn't want them, so he just handed them to the closest girl, Celia.

"I'm going to be married next, eh?" Celia beamed and looked at Atticus and Josh (also resurrected recently). "Which one of you is it going to be?" she teased.

"What a wedding!" Ron couldn't help but laugh. "Leave it to Nezura and Ebonyste to screw something like that up." He then pointed toward the wedding cake. "They're even going to ruin all that cake we could've eaten. Watch them."

Harry couldn't keep a straight face once he saw what the Auror and the Foreign Magic teacher were doing; Ebonyste had set the bride figurine on fire, and Nezura had done the same to the groom…and _then_ they moved on to throw large hunks of cake at each other. Ebonyste then lunged for Nezura, obviously trying to tackle her or something just as inappropriate. Nezura dodged, and Ebonyste slipped, falling into the enchanted punch bowl.

"Mum always said you weren't supposed to play with your food." Ron, Hermione, and Harry found the entire display hilarious, as did everyone else. However, Harry couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that Ebonyste hadn't married Nezura; now she was going to gripe, moan, and complain until the school year ended!

"Think of the house elves and Mr. Filch!" Hermione shouted at Ebonyste and Nezura. "They're going to have to clean up this mess!"

"Yeah, and think about _us_!" Malfoy added. "Some of us wanted some of that bloody cake!"

"Their actions were totally inappropriate," Cassandra admitted at dinner time. "But it was amusing to see them act like morons in front of everyone."

"I agree," Harry said, "but I'm a little disappointed that they didn't marry. We're never going to hear the end of it."

"And the bouquet," Hermione added. "It was passed around so many times; I think the tradition got ruined for it."

"Ahsimal, Quirrell, Malfoy, then Celia," Ron rolled his eyes. "I'd have been happy that she got it if we were still dating. But did you guys see the way she was talking to Josh and Atticus?"

"Yeah, well," Harry said, "Josh died, and Atticus got temporarily expelled. She's probably just glad to have her two best friends back. I know I was almost ecstatic when Morty brought you two back."

"Strange fellow, Morty Skylarke," Hermione said. "But I'm glad everything turned out alright for him."

"YO!" Shaquan shouted, and sat down next to Harry. "Wassup, man?"

"What?" Harry asked. "Shaquan, you're hard to understand."

"Don't be hatin' on me," Shaquan said angrily.

"I'm not…er…_hating_ on you," Harry replied. "I'm just telling you that I can only understand about half or less of what you say."

"I just wanna know wassup," Shaquan responded.

"Oh, nothing much," Harry admitted. "We were just talking about Ebonyste and Nezura, and how they ruined their own wedding."

"Oh, okay," Shaquan said, and then simply got up to talk to the Hufflepuffs. "Wassup, Hannah?"

"American slang," Hermione groaned. "He uses it even in his reports. You know how McGonagall let's us peer review her papers? Well, I always get stuck with Shaquan's, and he even _writes_ in slang. Every other sentence has 'y'know?' at the end of it." She put a small spoonful of her soup in her mouth and sighed heavily. "I'm almost ready for this school year to be over."

"The keyword is '_almost_', I hope," Harry said. "I don't want to go back to the Dursleys anytime soon."

"Sirius is still alive, isn't he?" Ron asked Harry. When Harry nodded, Ron said, "Then maybe you can go live with him over the summer. If that doesn't work, I'll see if you can come to The Burrow for the summer. Mum and Dad both like you, so I think that'll be a yes."

Suddenly, Pig flew down to the table and gave Ron a small note. He opened it up and groaned. "Aw, darn…I forgot…Cousin Mildred and her twin boys are coming to visit for a week in July." He looked very unhappy about that. "They're about as annoying as Winnefred."

"I guess that's a 'no' for the Burrow," Harry said, once more disappointed.

"Er…since you're…well…a _close friend_," Cassandra started, pointing to Harry's ring, "I'm sure any other _close friends_ would be more than glad to take you in for a while. Besides, my Mum told me that the doors to The Lair are always open to you."

"Thanks," Harry said, not wanting to tell Cassandra that although he liked Lydia, he didn't feel comfortable staying under the same roof with a Death Eater who only got out of being arrested because nobody could pin her to any of her attacks.

"What does Cassandra mean by _other close friends_?" Hermione asked Harry. "Aren't _Ron and I_ close friends?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but Cassandra meant something else."

"Hi!" Neville interrupted, sitting down at the table next to Cassandra. "I wanted to get a piece of the bridal cake the house elves salvaged…what did I miss?"

"Harry's about to tell me what Cassandra meant by 'close friend'," Hermione said, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "Because I asked him if Ron and I were close friends, and he said it wasn't in the same way." Neville didn't say anything, but he looked rather perplexed by this.

"Are Luna and Ginny going to show up too?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "Last time I saw either one of them was at the wedding."

"Now, tell me, Harry," Hermione pried. Cassandra began to blanche; Harry had no idea she could get any paler. "What did she mean?"

Harry tried to pull off the ring to show it to Ron, Neville, and Hermione for further explanation, but he soon discovered that none of the Nemesarists had been jesting when they said it would never come off.

"She meant that I was a Nemesarist."

"What's that?" Ron asked, looking about as confused as Neville. Cassandra took another sip of her soup and said nothing.

"It's a group of witches and wizards who meet up to practice special forms of magic, and believe in the Grey Magic Theory," Harry said. "That's all."

"What special forms are you talking about?" Hermione inquired. "Do you mean the Dark Arts?!"

"Sometimes," Harry said, "but before you begin to freak out, maybe I should tell you…if I know the Dark Arts also, I'll probably have a better chance of defeating Voldemort. I'll know more magic and how to deal with it. Professor Fenrir even showed me how to block Death Curses in there!"

After realizing he'd just betrayed Fenrir, he cupped his hands over his mouth.

"Fenrir's in there?" Ron looked a bit confused by this. "Well, why didn't you tell us about this Nemesarium thing?"

"He swore not to," Cassandra answered. "It's a very secretive society. I told Neville about it, but I also put a Secrecy Charm on him so he can't tell anyone else about it."

"I didn't mind," Neville said. "It's to protect the people in there. If everyone knew about it, then some of the members would be in serious trouble."

"So that whole group of teachers who tend to show interest in the Dark Arts…they're in there?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said, and then pointed to his left hand's middle finger. "But everyone who wears a ring like this where I've got it is a Nemesarist." He then looked at Ron and Hermione and said, "You're going to keep this secret, right?"

"Of course," Ron said. "I know you'd do the same for us if we'd been in there. Just don't turn Dark Lord on us, okay?" Everyone in that corner of the table began to laugh at the sheer preposterousness of that idea. '_It'll never happen_,' Harry told himself mentally.

"Oh, and I found out who sent Snape the Valentine," Neville said, still laughing. "It was Serena Voltaire; she sent one to _all_ the teachers except Fenrir."

"Does Snape know?" Harry asked Neville.

"Not that I know of," Neville admitted, "but isn't that funny? Serena's nice, and now it's obvious that she didn't want to exclude anyone except the people who were really unpleasant to her."

"Snape wasn't unpleasant to a Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, and when Neville shrugged, she rolled her eyes. "Well, _that_'s a first! I think he was just being tolerable to Serena because she's a foreign exchange student."

"Er…Harry?" Ron said suddenly.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"I think Hedwig's got a message for you."

Harry looked at his owl—who had flown to the table with Cassandra's owl Daedalus—and noticed she indeed had a letter for him. He opened it and read:

_Harry,_

_This is rather urgent, and concerns Sirius and Peter. You're going to have to meet up with me _

_after dinner about this. Bring Ron and Hermione if you think it will help, but don't bring the _

_Snape girl. There's no time to explain, but meet me in Lucinda Snitchgrass's classroom in _

_Turret Twelve as soon as you finish dinner. I'll be waiting._

_-Remus_

"What's that?" asked Hermione.

Harry got up from the table and started heading toward Turret Twelve. "Harry, Ron and I are coming with you! What IS it?"

"Something's happened," Harry simply told Hermione.

"Hold on," Cassandra said, getting up. "I'm coming too."

"No," Harry said, "I'm sorry Cassandra, but the sender didn't want you to come."

"Oh, I bet Nezura's the sender," Cassandra grumbled, sitting back down with Neville, "or another one of those pro-Slayer idiots."

Once Harry left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, he told them what was going on.

"Remus sent me a short note; something's happened to Wormtail and Padfoot…and we're supposed to meet him at Snitchgrass's classroom."

He rushed up the stairs as quickly as he could, and could see Remus already waiting for him up there.

"I'm here," he said rather loudly.

"Sssssh," Remus said. "Try to be quiet; we're sneaking out of Hogwarts."

"What for?" asked Ron.

"I gave both Sirius and Peter a small bottle of Polyjuice Potion and told them to buy wands," Remus said, "and that was two days ago; I haven't seen either one of them scurrying around here anywhere since then. Usually, I wouldn't worry about that."

Remus began walking down the stairs; Ron, Harry, and Hermione followed. "I still wouldn't have worried, except for the fact that I got a rather disturbing letter this morning from Celeste, and another from the Malfoys."

"Who's Celeste?" Hermione asked Remus.

"Celeste Fenrir, the owner of The Black Annis tavern," Remus explained. "She's your Phobomancy teacher's sister. Anyway, she wanted me to know that a Death Eater Raid had occurred in Hogsmeade, and she said she saw the two of them with them. I know Celeste isn't the type to write untrue material to a friend, so it's become apparent that the Death Eaters have the two of them. The Malfoy letter added onto that."

"So we're going to try to get them?"

"Yes, Hermione," Remus said, "but Mad-Eye and a few of the other Aurors are going to meet up with us at The Black Annis for more help."

"Why couldn't I bring Cassandra?" asked Harry.

"Severus is still skulking about with the Death Eaters so the Order can know what's going on in there," Remus answered, "and if his niece were to show up _against_ them…how would that look? Besides, we might come across a Slayer or two in there…that way, only _I_ would be in danger, and not a student." He then added, "And unless you told her about Sirius and Peter, Harry, I doubt she'll remain calm in their presence."

That made sense to Harry, and he followed the werewolf out the door, and his two best friends soon came behind him. There was going to be a long walk to Hogsmeade, and then an even _longer_ walk to downtown Hogsmeade, and even _further_ to get past the Von Dorian Territory to Dark Magic Circle…and to make the trip even _more_ lengthy, The Black Annis was located at the very end of Dark Magic Circle, to the Path of the Dead. It would be a long walk, but if they could save Sirius, it would all be worthwhile to Harry. Remus pulled out a large umbrella and beckoned for everyone to get under it, seeing as it was _still_ raining.

"I told Dumbledore that we'd be out tonight and would probably have to spend the night in the dodgy parts of Hogsmeade. He understood when I told him the reason, so if anyone wonders where you are, just say it was an emergency errand with Professor Fallowin, alright? He agreed to that alibi."

"We'll see him out here?" Ron asked.

"We might," Remus admitted. "Aurelius said he needed to get some more holy water and poppy seeds, so there's always the possibility we'll run across him somewhere near The Three Broomsticks."

It didn't take long to go through the Labyrinth to the basement of The Wit's End. According to Remus, it was by far the shortest route, and since the gorgonix and the doppelganger had both been taken care of, the chances of something dangerous _still_ being down there were next to remote.

"Being at Turret Twelve made me wonder, Professor Lupin," Hermione said, "do you know where Professor Snitchgrass ran off to? She just disappeared around the time the gorgonix was discovered."

"Last I heard," Remus admitted, "she went back to the Ukraine." He looked at them and said, "Oh, surely you didn't think 'Snitchgrass' was her _real_ last name! It's just an easier way to spell 'Szechgräaz,' which sounds pretty similar, don't you agree?"

"I don't even want to _try_ spelling that," Ron admitted. "Thank you, Professor Snitchgrass, for simplifying your name."

"Besides, with the word 'snitch' in the simplified version, it became easy to remember that she was a hotshot Quidditch player. That woman has played for several winning National teams, including Japan, Ukraine, Finland, and South Africa." Remus then made a small gag noise to show his disgust for Snitchgrass (_Szechgräaz_, to be more accurate) and added, "She did some of this when she was supposed to be teaching her students, too."

Harry noticed that the sun _still_ hadn't set yet, and that they had made it all the way to The Three Broomsticks. And as Remus had guessed, Aurelius was out there, sipping out of what Harry thought to be a perfume bottle.

"You're _drinking_ your Holy Water?" Remus looked a bit perplexed.

"That keeps the demons at bay," Aurelius explained. "After I do this, I'm going to get some more for my next client. But first, I'll sip my old water here and then drink my splipberry wine I ordered. Have a nice evening, you four."

The quartet kept walking until they made it to the Von Dorian Territory. While Harry found this part of Hogsmeade usually welcoming to him, there was something in the air that made the hair on his neck stand up and made his skin break into goose-pimples. A few screams could be heard in one direction, and incantations in a far off area. The sun had begun to set, and each minute, the place became more and more lively. Hermione clung to Ron, obviously scared. Ron looked just about as scared, and took a longer time to move. Remus had an expression on his face that made it clear he wanted to leave the Von Dorian Territory as quickly as possible. Harry heard the screams get louder, and then he saw what looked like emerald green lights coming from the direction of The Lair. He knew that it meant going deeper into that part of the city instead of the pathway used to go to Dark Magic Circle, but Lydia had been a rather generous lady toward him.

"Harry," Remus interrupted. "Where are you going?"

"The Lair!" Harry shouted, running as quickly as he could toward the green light and the screams. As soon as he made it toward The Lair, he realized that it wasn't under attack. Teiresias was reading about Potions, and trying to make one, a large cauldron (almost as big as him) simmering on the patio with the ten-year-old gently placing in the ingredients.

"That poor child looks like Severus," Remus pointed out.

"Teiresias," Harry called out, and the boy looked up at him. "Is your Mum in there?"

"No," Teiresias admitted. "Some of her friends are throwing her a birthday party at The Wit's End." He sighed with exasperation and said, "I couldn't go because someone had to look over the house and it was strictly an adults-only party. Why, do you need her?"

"I heard screaming, and saw a green light," Harry said, "and I thought the Death Eaters were coming after her."

"Oh, that won't happen," Teiresias said with a strong confidence. "Mum _is_ a Death Eater."

"So she went out with her buddies to go kill other people?" Hermione asked the boy, aggravated.

"I _already_ told you," Teiresias said defensively, "She's at The Wit's End with a _different_ group of friends."

"Who might they be?" Ron asked.

"Professors Fallowin, Skylarke, Fenrir, and Ahsimal," Teiresias calmly admitted. "And I'm stuck house-sitting with Marpessa…normally, I wouldn't mind, but Marpessa already fell asleep!"

"What kind of Potion is that?" Harry inquired.

Teiresias shrugged his shoulders and told them, "It's a Love Potion. Mum said she'd give me double allowance this week if I'd make her one." He then grinned and said, "I'm not going to miss an opportunity like that; I'm saving up for something expensive that Mum won't buy me…a trampoline."

"Thanks for everything, Teiresias," said Harry.

"You're welcome," the boy replied and then put six cinnamon sticks into that simmering red liquid. It smelled very good…and delicious.

Harry continued to follow the light, and then realized that it wasn't in the Von Dorian Territory at all; it was in Dark Magic Circle! The screams were louder than they had been only minutes earlier, and the green light covered the entire cul-de-sac. The Dark Mark was cast up into the sky, like a constellation, and a large, green bonfire was being burned in the center of the street.

"So much for sneaking into the Annis undetected," Ron complained.

"We can still get in there unnoticed," Harry said, a thought coming to him. "I have an idea."

"Oh?" Remus said. "What is it?"

Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it at Remus. "_Laconus Anata!_" he shouted, and then Remus shifted into Lucius Malfoy. "We impersonate some of the Death Eaters."

"Great idea!" Hermione cheered happily. She waved her wand at Harry and said, "_Laconus Anata!_" Harry then transfigured into Snape. She then did the same to Ron, only he became Rudolphus Lestrange.

"_Laconus Anata!_" Ron shouted at Hermione, who then transformed into Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Harry—I mean _Severus_—this was a good idea."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning. "I—"

"Let's go inside," Remus interrupted.

"But," Harry argued, "what about the screaming?"

"There's nothing we can do about that right now, unless you _want_ to blow our cover," Remus told Harry. "Now, we go in there, explain to Celeste, and then go to the room she set up for us to meet up with Mad-Eye and the others."

"Right," Hermione said, looking at that bonfire again, and realized the Death Eaters were trying to burn a young vampire. For some odd reason, it wasn't working, and they were getting rather pissed.

Harry walked through one of the many entrance doors to The Black Annis, and went through a corridor leading to the main lobby. Celeste Fenrir was in there, trying to replant a rosemary plant which had had its pot broken.

"Hello, Celeste," he said, surprised that he really _did_ sound like Snape when transfigured!

"Oh, hi, Severus," Celeste didn't even look up.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he asked the female werewolf.

"Sure," Celeste said. "Does it involve your three friends' right behind you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "You see, Celeste…I'm not Severus, but Harry Potter, okay? My

friends and I used the Laconus Curse to shift into some of the Death Eaters so we could get past that big crowd outside."

"Smart thinking, Harry," Celeste said. "You've got a good head on your shoulders. So…I guess two out of those three are your two best friends you mentioned at You-Know-Where?"

"That's right," Harry said. "The other one is Remus."

"Remus," Celeste said, not looking at them. "Nice to have you here again. Let me guess again; you guys are wondering where Alastor and that crowd are?"

"Yes," Ron answered. "That's right, Miss Fenrir."

"Follow me," Celeste calmly said. "You all know the Raid's going on right out there, and they're probably going to be boarding here tonight. Spending the night in the Annis _will_ be safe and secure, if you don't leave your room until morning and keep the door locked."

"In that case," Harry said, "we'll be taking five rooms."

"Five?" Celeste didn't get it. "There's only _four_ of you."

"Tonight's a rescue mission," Remus explained.

"Okay," Celeste said, handing all four of them a key, and handing the second one to Harry.

"Those are for your rooms, and I have Remus listed down to pay me in the morning for his room and the extra room. Students don't have to pay."

"That's a nice deal," Ron admitted, looking at his key. "Er…I didn't know you had rooms up _that_ high."

Celeste then curtly said, "Lobby Three; you'll find them there," and with those words, she walked off to cater to the people in the pub. "Alright, already! I'm coming with your bloody drinks, so keep your pants on…for _all_ our sakes!"

Harry and the others walked into Lobby Three to see Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andrew McCoy, and Cynthia Lynches, waiting in there. They stiffened, and aimed at the four who were entering the room.

"What's the meaning of this?" McCoy shouted.

"Celeste Fenrir ratted us out," Mad-Eye guessed. "Oh well; we'll just stun them, bring them to the Hogsmeade Patrol and make sure that they—"

"_Laconus Prioritum!_" Remus, Harry, Hermione, and Ron said together, and shifted back to their normal forms. "Look, it's us, okay?"

"The Laconus Curse?" Mad-Eye said it like a question. When Harry nodded, he added, "Your idea?" Harry nodded again, and Mad-Eye grinned. "That was very smart thinking. Where'd you learn that one?"

"Curses & Rootwork with Mortimer Skylarke," Harry answered. "He sure does know his material."

"I bet he does," Mad-Eye agreed. "I've dealt with him before; sneaky fellow, very cunning. Now, it's come to my attention that Sirius Black is out there as a hostage. Is that true?"

"Sadly, yes," Remus said. "This morning I got a letter from the Malfoy family, in case you needed proof; Celeste, too. Severus also clarified it even further by backing up that story."

"That's a problem," McCoy said, agreeing, and then he jumped in surprise. "Wait a minute…I thought Sirius Black WAS a Death Eater!"

"Never!" Harry argued. "Sirius was framed!"

"Prove it," McCoy and Lynches snapped in unison.

"Andrew, Cynthia?" Mad-Eye said sweetly.

"Yes?" McCoy asked.

"Your only mission is to stun as many Death Eaters as you can, and try to save the citizens of this city," Mad-Eye told them. "Sirius Black isn't a Death Eater and was indeed framed. Peter Pettigrew is yet another alleged hostage, Remus?"

"That's correct," Remus announced.

"I know _he's_ a Death Eater," Mad-Eye stated, "so once we 'rescue' him, it's off to Azkaban with him. If he behaves well, he'll get away with a twenty-year sentence. If not, we'll just let those Dementors get a hold of him and let them pucker up." He then turned to McCoy and Lynches, "Don't be afraid to destroy Dementors if you have to. I gave you iron rods for a reason."

"Yes, Sir," the two Aurors said, heading out of the room. Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Mad-Eye stayed.

"Now…how do we get into the Raid without putting Potter here in jeopardy?" Mad-Eye asked the group. "I'm open for ideas here…because I'm sure he's not going to want to sit around by himself in his hotel room while we go rescue Sirius and Pettigrew."

"We could do what Harry thought of earlier," offered Hermione.

"No," Mad-Eye said. "Those people you transfigured into will be out there, and if they see duplicates, everyone will _know_ something is afoot. But using the Laconus again, however…that we might be able to do."

"But if not into Death Eaters, then who?" asked Ron.

"_Laconus Anata!_" Mad-Eye shouted over the entire group, and then Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Remus shifted into Malfoy, Crabbe, Millicent, and Goyle. "The Death Eaters-to-be."

"Good one, Alastor," Remus said, cracking a wry smile. "Now who are you, Tonks, and Kingsley going to be?" The question wasn't verbally answered, but the three Aurors became Rick Fallowin, Rhianna Apathy and Blaise Zabini.

"Hold on!" Harry said. "Rhianna and Blaise wouldn't do that."

"Their families expect them to become Death Eaters," Mad-Eye explained, looking like Rick. "They might decide not to, but they will be great disguises for the time being. Just act in-character until we find the hostages."

_This is going to be hard,_ Harry thought; _How would Malfoy behave at a Death Eater Raid?_

He walked down the staircase from Lobby Three to the main floor, and walked out into the Raid, and the place where his scar would be if he were in his true form burned about as hotly as the flames which had begun to consume the vampire, who had probably died already from asphyxiation.

"Hi, Dad," he said, coming up to Lucius, trying his best to be in-character.

"Why are you here?" Lucius asked. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"It's just stupid incentives anyway," Harry played along. "I wanted to come out here and see what was going on."

"Well, the vampire-burning was Medora's idea," Lucius began, "as a way to aggravate Darius Ahsimal to come to the Raid. The Dark Lord wishes to have a word with him."

"That's malicious!" Harry argued, suddenly aware he'd made his first mistake…or so he thought.

"You need to quit sucking up to that fruitcake, Draco," Lucius hissed. "He's the kind I feel you'd be best to avoid. Sure, he may seem all girly and wimpy up at Hogwarts, but it's just a little image he uses there to keep Dumbledore at bay. No, the Darius I knew from here was a vindictive monster, and that is why so many of us here admire him so. Admire him if you like, son, but whatever you do…don't let a vampire think he's superior and able to take advantage of you."

"So, what happens after that vampire burns?" Harry asked.

"Oh, we plan to burn a blood-traitor," Lucius said so calmly that it made Harry want to vomit. "Also, it became clear to all of us that Wormtail double-crossed the Dark Lord, so we're going to roast him, too." He smiled and said, "I'm waiting with anticipation to hear him scream; he always got on my nerves."

_cancancancancancancancan_

_Hello everyone! I'm so very sorry about the delay in posting this next chapter. My beta and good friend Nita's computer died, and she lost all of her files, including my story. So, I have finally sent her the last few chapters and now she's able to beta and post for me._

_Thank you so much to all of you who have reviewed. I'm sorry that I've been unable to answer each of your reviews personally, but hopefully I'll be able to do that soon. However, I really do appreciate the reviews that I've received._

_Please do review after reading this chapter…and remember…there are only 3 more chapters to go and this tale will be complete!_

_Best wishes, Professor Skylarke._


	49. Chapter 48

Hello everyone. Warning: This chapter will contain some graphic descriptions of people being burned at the stake. Character death. If this will bother you, you might want to skip this chapter, or at least, skim over the first half of it.

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Chapter Forty-Eight:

Voldemort's Advocate

The cruelest nature in man is the ability to coldheartedly ruin another in all three ways; physically, emotionally, and spiritually. To kill a person is bad enough, but to make them hurt, linger, and begin to question everything about their intellect, upbringing, and loyalties…nothing could be more malicious. The vampires who had served no purpose and perhaps no heart-wrenching attachments to Darius Ahsimal had only been slaughtered to bring him to the Death Eaters, simply because Voldemort had wanted to have a word with him. And for that petty reason, at least thirty died that night. Harry watched through Malfoy's eyes as vampire after vampire was tossed into that pile.

"Lydia isn't going to be happy with us," Harry heard a Death Eater mention. "Sir, are you sure this was a good idea?"

"Don't argue with me," Voldemort snapped. "This is the only way I can make our old friend come to us."

Harry wanted to vomit.

"Draco, are you alright?" Lucius asked.

"No," Harry replied, holding his mouth with his hand. "I'm going to be sick if I stay out here!"

As he was about to walk off, he then saw a vampire he recognized…Lydia Von Dorian's own brother, Lawrence!

"Please, stop it!"

"What? You've suddenly become a vampire lover, Draco?"

Lucius looked a bit unsure of that. "You're acting a little strange…you really _must_ be sick." He glared at Harry. "Go back to school."

"Lawrence Von Dorian," Voldemort's harsh, cold voice spoke out.

It took a while for Harry to find him, but when he did, he _did_ vomit.

"You have been taken out of your home with the sole purpose to drag Darius Cyrus Ahsimal toward us. Have you anything you wish to confess to the Death Eaters before we throw you in the flames? If we find you favorable, you can still save your life."

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed evilly. "From what Lydia has told me, you're down to your _final_ life."

Lawrence's usually calm complexion cracked, and he began to panic.

"I didn't hide anyone from you, and I openly welcomed my sister when she became one of your Death Eaters…I'm the sibling of a high ranking member of your group! Surely you wouldn't want to cause _Lydia_ any pain!"

"She's not the one being burned, and I know she'll get over it," Voldemort sounded very sure, "just as she did after she devoured her own child. That was a decade ago, and I don't see her even _thinking_ about Melampus anymore."

That made Lawrence break even more.

"He was your nephew, am I correct? Were you attached to him?"

Lawrence said nothing, but shivered as Voldemort came up right next to him.

"Claudius mentioned to me that you loved Melampus as if he were your own son."

The expression on the vampire's face was enough to make anyone uneasy. Lawrence continued to cower, and then as Voldemort began walking off, the handsome fellow gave the Dark Lord a rather strong kick, making Voldemort lose his balance and tumble down to the floor.

"That does it, Von Dorian," Voldemort hissed. "You just wasted your last chance of redemption. Now, it's time to die for our cause—"

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Hermione shouted, and then gasped, terrified that she'd spoken aloud.

"You object?" Voldemort stomped over toward Hermione and glared her down. "Wait…you're not Millicent Bullstrode." The Dark Lord pulled out his wand and pointed the incantation up into the sky, calling out, "_LACONUS PRIORITUM!_"

"POTTER?!" Lucius flinched as he realized Harry wasn't his son after all. Before Harry could scurry away, Lucius caught him by the back of his shirt. "Just where do you think you're running off to?"

"Remus Lupin!" Another Death Eater called out, grabbing the unfortunate werewolf. "I've wanted to see you for a long time."

The Death Eater pulled down her hood to reveal a fiery redheaded woman who looked a lot like Celeste and Lycaon.

"Medora?!" Remus looked horrified. "You're a—"

"Yes," Medora said smoothly, "and I've been one even longer than Severus, and unlike Lycaon, my fickle little brother, I stuck to it." She looked up and sighed. "Ah, yes…I'm the only Fenrir who's not a werewolf! How lucky of me to—"

She yowled in pain as Remus took a big bite out of her arm and ran off.

"Medora!" another Death Eater called out. "What happened?"

"Werewolf bite," Medora grumbled, clutching her arm. "Get Lupin; I'll take care of the Weasley boy." She pointed her wand directly at Ron, and shouted, "_AVADA--_"

"PLEASE, STOP IT!" Lawrence screamed from the burning stake, his hands still tied. "I'LL DIE FOREVER; JUST DON'T KILL THEM!"

"Very well," Voldemort had a mocking-sweet tone in his voice as he patted Lawrence on his rose-tattooed cheek and ran his spidery fingers through the vampire's lime-green-dyed hair.

"It's a pity you didn't follow in your sister's footsteps. I'll wait to kill Potter and his friends; I'd hate to have them miss tonight's show. It's also a tragedy you won't be here to see the rest, but let's hope your death won't be meaningless."

He looked at Medora Fenrir and said, "You let the _werewolf_ bite you?"

"Forgive me!" Medora wailed as the Dark Lord used the Cruciatus on her for a few seconds. "MASTER! FORGIVE ME!"

Harry had shivers running down his spine, and tried once more to get out of Lucius Malfoy's grasp, but found it was impossible. He'd somehow been rendered paralyzed, as had Ron, Hermione, and Remus.

"Oh, now the fun begins," Voldemort laughed shrilly and poured some petrol on Lawrence to attract the flames. The sight of seeing Lawrence's handsome body consumed, and thoroughly eaten, by the flames was too much for Harry. The screaming made matters worse, and so was seeing Lawrence struggling as best he could to get out of there, but in vain. Finally, the screaming stopped, and was replaced by the most disgusting smell Harry had ever had enter his nose—even worse than the Stage Three corpses Darius had shown to him—charred vampire flesh. He soon found he could move from the neck up, and turned his head around to see Hermione was screaming and wailing.

"I didn't get too much satisfaction out of that torching," Voldemort admitted to Harry, getting right in his face. For a moment, he almost looked human. "Harry, you want me to stop, don't you?"

"Yes, and you know it," Harry struggled to say, angered.

That only got Voldemort to chuckle a little. "You liked Lawrence Von Dorian, then? As a friend?"

"I admired him," Harry curtly replied, wishing he could get up and strangle that man…if Voldemort was still a man. "That was his last life; why kill him?"

"Vampires, especially those of the Von Dorian bloodline, attract Darius," Voldemort explained. "When I say Darius, you know of whom I speak, right?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Darius Ahsimal, the Necromancer."

"The Necromancer," Voldemort repeated in a tone Harry didn't really know how to categorize. "The only person I envy."

"You envy me," Harry argued.

"No," Voldemort chuckled even more, and touched the side of Harry's face, making the boy shiver in pain. "I don't envy you; I just hate you, and can't understand _how_ you managed to survive my Death Curse. I envy Darius because he's immortal—"

"He's a vampire," Harry interrupted, "not immortal."

"You lie," Voldemort hissed softly in Harry's ear. "He is everything I wish to be! I was honored to have him as my first disciple, but then he went off on his own, due to the treachery of my other Death Eaters. Oh, I'll never forgive Ebonyste for what he did, making Darius leave. If I still had Darius aiding me, you'd have never survived that night fifteen years ago!"

He turned toward Medora and took the curse off her. "Fenrir!" he hissed. "Bring Wormtail out here!"

"Sir," Medora said grimly, still cradling her arm as she went behind the Tour de Nocturne store. A moment later, she came out, dragging a sleeping (or unconscious; Harry couldn't be sure which) Peter Pettigrew behind her with one rather brawny arm. "The turncoat is presented to you, my Lord."

"Brilliant," Voldemort grinned, and then ordered, "Crabbe! Goyle! I'd like you two to help Rudolphus tie Wormtail to the stake. Remove the Von Dorian bones first; I made sure he wasn't reduced to ashes to show my respect for the Truly Dead."

Harry gagged as he saw a trio of Death Eaters toss the skeleton (as well as the few charred remains of tissue left) onto the brick road, right next to Remus. Several cracked, to reveal the black and oozing marrow of pure, undiluted vampire elixir!

"Harry, your parents…they're just a Resurrection away. If you'd like to ask Darius to bring them back for you when he gets here, so you'll get to die in front of them, that'll be alright."

Voldemort then strode over toward his other hostages. "Three Aurors, a werewolf, a Mudblood, a Weasley, and Harry himself? My, oh my; this was quite a catch. I'm sure Darius will be happy to see all of you."

While several of the Death Eaters were chuckling lightly at that comment, Voldemort then shouted loudly at them, "SILENCE!" He cleared his throat, and then turned to Claudius Snape and Licinius Fallowin. "You two; put up a second stake in our pyre for our other guest tonight."

"Yes, my Lord," Claudius bowed before Voldemort and had his chestnut hair flop all in his face as he did so. "It shall be done." As Claudius lifted up another large pole and stuck it into the cinders through his incantations, his ice blue eyes looked directly into Harry's green ones.

Harry took the moment to try to get through to the man. "Killing the friend of your own daughter, sir?"

Claudius quietly looked away and tied the fireproof ropes around Wormtail's now sinewy wrists. Wormtail had the look of a fat person who had rapidly lost a tremendous amount of weight, and it really didn't flatter him. Then again, nothing did; but this just made him look even worse than usual.

Claudius then rushed over to Lawrence's bones and began to polish them, rubbing off the remaining cadaver, elixir, and ashes to make them white as fresh snow. After each one was cleaned off, Claudius tossed the bones into an enormous pile close to Ron and Mad-Eye. Appalled by what he saw, Harry tried to look away, but found it too tempting to continue looking at the remains of all those bodies.

"How…many…did you—"

"How many?" Voldemort hiss-laughed, returning toward Harry. He continued talking as he approached. "Lawrence was number thirty-seven. Wormtail will be thirty-eight, Sirius Black thirty-nine, your friends here…all the way to forty-two. I'm going to put a strong Memory Charm on the Aurors and send them elsewhere—"

"YOU THINK I'M THAT WEAK-WILLED, VOLDEMORT?!" Mad-Eye snarled. "IT'LL NEVER—"

"_PERPLEXIA!_" Voldemort spat hastily at Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley. "_DISPLACEM!_" The three Aurors disappeared right before the eyes of the students, as well as the Death Eaters and Remus. "Now, where was—"

"_EXTINGUISHUS!_" another pair of voices shouted. Harry turned around to see Lynches and McCoy, the other two Aurors. The flames on the pyre were put out, and even began to freeze over a little bit.

"Oh no," Damien Fallowin grumbled. "Not those two over-the-hill buffoons again!" He rolled up his sleeves and spat, "_PERPLEXIA ET DISPLACEM!_"

Just as the Dark Lord had done earlier to the other three, the two confused Aurors disappeared.

"Good job, Damien," Voldemort praised the young man.

"Thank you, Sir!" Damien beamed. "Now what do we do?"

"What do you _mean_ by that?" Voldemort snarled. "WE'RE GOING TO SET BLACK AND PETTIGREW ON FIRE! MY DEAR BOY, PLEASE USE YOUR COMMON SENSE! HAVE YOU ANY?!"

When Damien didn't answer, the Dark Lord patted the young man's head and said, "Sometimes, Damien, I get the feeling you don't."

"Pettigrew is tied, my Lord," Licinius Fallowin interrupted. "Should I get Severus or one of the pledges to retrieve Sirius Black?"

"Get Severus; he knows the drill by now." Voldemort rolled his eyes, and then returned toward Harry. "This is really sickening you, isn't it?"

"It's pointless!" Harry yelled. "Why kill them?!"

"Darius—"

"THOSE TWO HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH DARIUS!" Remus and Harry shouted.

"The smell of burning flesh attracts the Necromancer more than anything," Voldemort said smoothly, and then said, "But that's not why I chose to burn the next two. I chose Wormtail because he traded in his services to me so he could serve you! As for Sirius Black, he's a blood traitor and deserves to die. I know how much he means to you, especially seeing that you only Resurrected him about a month or two ago. Am I correct in saying it was sometime this semester?"

"How would you—"

"Doppelganger," Voldemort blurted. "Lucinda planted the doppelganger in there for me; she trains them. She is such a clever woman; thoughtful, too. It was Lucinda that planted the gorgonix in Ebonyste as punishment for his betrayals; Lucinda that trained the doppelganger and placed it in Hogwarts to not only spy for us, but kill anyone who got in the way; Lucinda that gave you the soul-sucker! She made sure that she was your Hawkbane this year; I'm disappointed that the soul-sucker didn't work, but—"

"She's your advocate!" Harry shouted.

"I consider her a fan girl," Voldemort chuckled a bit more, and then rubbed Harry's scar, making Harry scream just about as loudly as Lawrence had only a few minutes earlier. "A very intelligent, useful fan girl. She's not a sponsor or supporter for my causes; she just does this stuff, thinking I'll love her for it." He rolled his red eyes again. "That's _never_ going to happen. Darius, however, used to be my advocate, and I want it to be that way once more."

"You're horrible!" Hermione shouted. "Why kill so many innocent—"

"Damn," Voldemort let out a harsh sigh of exasperation. "How many times do I have to repeat this?! It's to bring Darius back to me and my Death Eaters!" He then pointed to the bones and said, "Take a look; I'm going to offer him a gift."

"Bones?!" Ron turned extremely pale. "Why would he—"

"I gave him a chandelier once," Voldemort said in that mockingly-sweet tone. "I thought I'd give him one to compliment the other one, so he can have one at Hogwarts and another in his New Orleans home. He's got a nice place around the end of Bourbon Street." He grinned vilely and said, "Several people my Death Eaters have killed have somehow turned up in Darius's decorations. Harry, your grandparents on your father's side, for example. Oh! And Weasley's missing aunt! Rhianna Apathy's parents! Blaise Zabini's father! My _own_ father! All in that work of art!"

Harry couldn't believe it; he'd known that Darius's skeleton chandelier was made of real skeletons, but he'd always assumed Darius had made it himself out of bodies left in catacombs and abandoned ossuaries…he'd never thought it was a gift from Voldemort, and had people in there he could have known! People who could have been there for him! Did Darius know?

"You mean—"

"The lamps, too," Voldemort taunted. "You know; the ones he keeps in his classroom and bedroom?"

"That's disgusting!" Hermione screeched.

"You think so?" Voldemort seemed to find that funny.

At that very moment, Wormtail had picked the wrong time to wake up. Perhaps the fire wouldn't hurt as badly if he'd stayed asleep and been burned in that state.

"What am I—MASTER!?" He looked at Voldemort pleadingly. "Please, no; don't do this!"

"Wormtail," the Dark Lord lifted himself up into the air to loom over the bound Animagus. "You betrayed me."

"Never, Master!" Wormtail lied. "Never!"

"You left me to join up with Harry Potter," Voldemort added, not even letting what Wormtail was feeding him register. "You sold your soul to Mortimer Skylarke for getting you out of that problem you were in…you left me for Harry, since Mortimer requested it of you."

"It's a lie!" Wormtail continued to fib, trying to save his own skin once more. "I'd never—"

"SHUT UP, YOU FOOL!" Voldemort bellowed, his voice amplified so loudly that Harry thought people all the way in Russia could probably hear him. "I AM A HIGHLY SKILLED LEGILIMENS AND I CAN SMELL A LIE BETTER THAN A VAMPIRE CAN BLOOD! I KNOW YOU'RE LYING TO ME, TRYING ONCE MORE TO SAVE YOURSELF!"

"Please, Master," Wormtail yelped, "I—"

Voldemort was infuriated to the point where not only the captives, but the Death Eaters also, were terrified and not sure what was going to happen next.

"You've played games with me long enough, Peter Pettigrew. Now it's time to say farewell to this world and say hello to the world hereafter. Prepare—"

"Sir!" Harry heard Snape's voice and noticed a still-hooded Death Eater approaching Voldemort. He _knew_ it was Snape. "Sirius Black has escaped."

"WHAT?!" Voldemort looked very unhappy with that news, and shook Snape so hard that his mask fell off; further proving Harry's theory correct. "How did that happen!?"

"He had a wand," Snape said, still remaining calm for some odd reason. "When I went in there, he was climbing out of the store window. He's trying to find his way out of the courtyard right now."

"Retrieve him, Severus!" Voldemort hissed. "Don't let him escape."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Snape said, shrugging his shoulders. "He's stronger than I am; faster, too. There's no possible way I could catch him." Harry suddenly realized what Snape was doing; he had let Sirius out and was stalling so he could escape!

"I hate to agree with you on that one," Voldemort let go of Snape, "but it's true; you're not the strongest or fastest Death Eater I have, but you are one of the most intelligent. Mara! Medora! Bellatrix! Chase down our guest!"

"_Pyros_," Claudius mumbled, starting up another fire in the pyre. Wormtail began to scream even more as the flames began to climb up his clothes. "Goodbye, Peter," Claudius jeered. "It's a shame I can't throw my little brother in there to keep you company." He looked up and smiled at Voldemort. "Sir, may I—"

"The answer is NO, Claudius," Voldemort snapped. "Don't tempt me to throw _you_ in there!" Claudius shut up after that, and scurried into the crowd.

'_Why isn't Celeste doing anything?_' Harry thought grimly as he closed his eyes, not wanting to see Wormtail's body do the same thing as Lawrence Von Dorian's. There were several incoherent phrases coming out of Wormtail's mouth as the flames began to dig deeper into his flesh…the beginning of the smells were beginning to come again, making Harry feel even sicker than before. Vampires smelled terrible, but burning human beings smelled worse tenfold! And knowing it was one of Harry's father's best friends—one of his Marauders—made the matter even worse. The screams stopped, and then Harry's stomach gave way and let go of whatever remaining contents it had; he knew that Wormtail had failed to save himself in those green flames.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Voldemort shouted. "No need to be shy, Darius; I had this little bonfire just for you…to win you over and let you know how sorry I am about what happened to Sargon."

"Has he finally gone mad?" Harry heard Licinius ask Lucius. "That vampire's probably never going to show up, and the smell…oh, the smell…it's getting to me. You don't want to know how many times I had to use the street garbage cans to empty out my stomach!"

"That's right," Lucius said coldly, and Harry could tell by how he sounded that he was holding his nose. "I _don't_ want to know, but the Dark Lord hasn't lost his mind. This _is_ the only way to attract that bloody monster."

'_I'm glad Snape helped Sirius get out safely,_' Harry thought to himself as he opened his eyes, immediately wishing he'd kept them closed; Wormtail's body hadn't finished burning. He turned his head to see Ron vomit and Hermione continue to sob and wail. Remus looked very upset as he watched as calmly as he could the body's burning.

"You don't miss him, do you?" Voldemort whispered in Harry's ear. "It's not too late to have him Resurrected. In fact, it's only too late for the Truly Dead vampires, and I only torched a dozen of them. For the others, it'll just take a few incantations from Darius to bring them back. That's all it'd take. I could do it myself, if I wanted to."

"You?"

"Yes, Harry," Voldemort whispered in an almost soothing voice. "I just had my other Death Eaters apprehend Sirius Black; he's not getting away after all."

"What?! NO!" Harry was in hysterics. "Don't—"

"I can spare him," Voldemort said, "but what will I get in return? _Your_ life?"

"Harry, you _can't_ do that!" Ron shouted. "You're the only one who can kill Voldemort! If you die, then all's lost!"

"What do you want?" Harry asked, hoping desperately to save Sirius. "My life?"

"That'd be nice," Voldemort answered. "In fact, I could spare all your friends and family, let them all live, if you'd just surrender to me."

"He'll never do that!" Sirius shouted as a couple of Death Eaters bound him where Wormtail had been only moments earlier. "Harry! Don't forfeit just for me and the others!"

"He's right, Harry," Remus agreed grimly. "Sirius and I would easily lay down our lives if it meant you'd rid the world of Voldemort."

"I…" Harry began, not sure what he wanted to say anymore. "I—"

"Light the pyre again," Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters. He then pressed his wand to Harry's forehead and muttered, "_Invisionus non Prohibita._" Harry wasn't sure what the Dark Lord had done to him, but soon realized when Sirius was bound up tightly and the fires began. He tried to close his eyes, but all he could do was blink; they'd reopen almost instantly, and he didn't want them to do that! "I don't want my little friend here to miss a single second of the fun."

Harry tried to focus his sight elsewhere as best he could, but no matter where, his eyes were focused entirely on Sirius.

"Stop it! STOP IT!"

He knew the cries were useless before they'd left his mouth; there was no way Voldemort would listen to him. The flames began to rise into Sirius's clothing, and caught a small piece of his hair…"LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT'S ME YOU WANT!"

"Oh, I _know_ it's you I want," Voldemort laughed a little. "I'm just having a little fun. Ah, I see the lovely birthday girl has decided to join us after all! Welcome to the bonfire, Lydia."

Harry was beyond words, and into an even more intense fit of horror as Sirius continued to scream; there she was, Lydia Von Dorian! "LYDIA!" Harry shouted. "HE'LL THROW YOU IN THE FIRE!"

"What?" Lydia sounded a bit confused. "No, Harry…I don't think he would." She approached the Dark Lord and said, "What's going on here? You had a Raid and didn't tell me?" There was something in her beautiful eyes that reassured Harry that he'd leave this night alive and well…as well as he could be.

"You were on birthday leave," Voldemort said icily, "and it's not like you're as loyal as Bellatrix, who's never missed a Raid. You're the one out of us that constantly has to take time off for your two remaining children."

"What a pity it is that you had to eat the only good-looking one," Bellatrix spat at Lydia. In retaliation, Lydia snarled, and Harry was surprised something that beautiful could turn out to be so vile.

"What's the matter? Don't you agree that neither Cassandra nor Teiresias is as attractive as your precious Melampus? Pity, Lydia; I wish you'd have eaten your whelp instead of that wonderful boy! He'd have been amazing if you'd let him live, instead of letting your lamia rages take over once he got his letter to Hogwarts—"

Harry couldn't see Lydia hit Bellatrix for the comments, but he wished he could have seen that, especially because his eyes were glued on Sirius, who'd begun coughing and thrashing about, still trying to get out.

"Have you seen Darius?" Voldemort interrupted the two women. "Lydia? Have you?"

"He was at my party," Lydia admitted, giving Bellatrix another hit for mentioning Melampus all over again, "and—"

"A good womb bore a bad son, you know," Bellatrix blurted. "Teiresias isn't even Claudius's, I bet! I think he's—"

"I wasn't asking about Teiresias Von Dorian-Snape," Voldemort interrupted Bellatrix. "I don't want to know about the whelp. I was asking our one remaining vampire of a Death Eater if she'd seen Darius."

"Like I said," Lydia replied, "_Sir_, he was at my party."

"Did he come here with you?" Voldemort had the words slithering about, almost as if he were speaking in Parselmouth.

"Yes," a velvety voice replied behind Lydia, who looked quite surprised to see—

"Darius." Voldemort's eyes widened, and a smile was on his monstrous face. "How good of you to come…_finally_."

"What's with the fire?" Darius asked, shading his eyes from the bright green flames with the bruised-purple sleeve of his robe. "Hold on…is that a _person_ in there?"

"Yes," Voldemort answered, stroking the side of Darius's velvet-covered left shoulder. "Sirius Black, to be more precise."

"_Extinguishus,_" Darius said calmly, raising his wand to the flames. Sirius was still alive, but it was clear that he had quite a number of burns all over his body; at least Harry could still recognize him and his _face_ didn't get quite as much damage.

"I appreciate the gesture, my dear Lord Voldemort, but I think you forgot somewhere that Sirius was once one of my favorite Necromancy students."

"He's a blood traitor," Voldemort argued icily.

"So what? I'm a blood _drinker_, and you don't have any problems with me," Darius responded, folding his arms.

"As a token of our friendship, my dear Grand High Necromancer, I thought I'd make you a complimentary chandelier, just like the one you keep in Turret Thirteen." Voldemort's eyes were just about as bloodthirsty as a hungry vampire's, and looked very eager to get a rise out of his guest. "Well…?"

"I thought you robbed ossuaries to make these," Darius said calmly, neither appalled nor pleased with what the Dark Lord had done. "Is anyone I _know_ dangling on my classroom ceiling?"

"Thaddeus and Beryl Potter," Voldemort began. "Did you teach them?"

"Ages ago," Darius answered, beginning to look a bit embarrassed as he untied Sirius from the stake. "They're holding my candles with their skeletal hands?"

"My father's in there," Voldemort added.

"Oh, now you DID tell me that," Darius was beginning to show signs of agitation as Voldemort continued to tell him who all was in his favorite decorative piece. "Is there anyone I know in this _new_ one?"

"Nobody you'd really miss," Voldemort replied. "Just—"

"I didn't ask _that_!" Darius spat in a tone Harry was surprised _anyone_ would use with Voldemort. "I can't hang it up if Sargon or someone like him is in there!"

"Lydia's brother Lawrence is in it," Claudius stated loudly, more to anger his ex-wife than the Grand High Necromancer. "He screamed like a little girl."

Darius rushed right over there before the man could say anything else, and plunged his fangs into the neck of Cassandra's father. The screaming there was worse than Wormtail's final cries. Harry shivered, strongly remembering how _painful _a bite from Darius felt…but he knew that he hadn't screamed as badly as Claudius. He struggled to get away, but Harry watched in sickening interest as the Death Eater was set down to the floor, limp and bloodless.

"You drained a Death Eater in front of me?" Voldemort questioned Darius angrily. "Are you showing acts of opposition to me now, Darius? You used to be my strongest supporter, my first Disciple! My _Advocate_!"

"I found a better master than you," Darius replied, licking his lips clean of Claudius's crimson blood. "I followed you because I didn't have anything else to do, I liked you, and because you reminded me of when it was better times for vampires. After you got your newer members to turn on me and had Adonis Ebonyste go off and slay my lover, I resigned for a reason, and I'm sure you've noticed your Death Curse didn't work on me."

"I never wanted to use it on you," Voldemort replied. "I knew you quit, but I also knew that being a vampire, you supported me more than you did the Ministry of Magic."

"That's true, but you betrayed me more than I _ever_ betrayed you," Darius continued. "But I _did_ find a better person to take control in my life…someone with much more understanding, knowledge, and appreciation for _The Art_."

He closed his eyes and had a faint smile on his beautifully androgynous face. For the first time, Harry could really see how much of an enigma Darius had been to him before; and this was how he was, a true Nemesarist at heart! But who was this person?

"Who is this better leader?" Voldemort asked, now playing a little bit with Darius's silky white hair. "I'm a vampire lover, you know; and always will be." He glared at Lucius and several of the pro-Slayer Death Eaters, who were now beginning to look rather uncomfortable with this confrontation.

"The only person who controls my views now is me," Darius answered, and the smile disappeared from his face. "I am now only _inspired _by others, and that is how it should be." He then reached out to touch the Dark Lord, much to the shock and outrage of several Death Eaters. "You inspired me, you know, but I must ask you; how can you be a friend of the vampire community if you burn them at the stake?"

"It was only to get you over here," Voldemort replied. "I burned humans also, just so you know. The Von Dorian Territory is just outside Dark Magic Circle and most were easy to bring over here. Besides, their bones are much stronger than human bones and I'd want your new chandelier to be very durable."

"Fire doesn't kill us," Darius replied coldly. "You might want to look at your pile of bones over there, next to Weasley. Then again, if you don't want to see several pissed-off vampires who aren't very thrilled with being over here, _don't look_."

A loud and girlish laugh bellowed out of Darius's albino body. He had his hands slightly-clasped together and was pressing them to his waist as his chest heaved in and out from the laughter.

"They're not dead?" Harry asked Darius; he was angry, shocked, and relieved to see the vampire. He knew that Darius would never betray a fellow Nemesarist and would—like Lydia, who was also in Nemesarium, and perhaps Snape—try to get him out.

Darius went over toward Harry and pricked the boy's finger, sucking a bit of his blood. "There; I removed your paralysis jinx the old-fashioned way. As for your question, none of them died. You saw them burn, but their bones gather together again and all tissues rejuvenate all over again. Harry, I'm sorry you had to see all this."

"Get Ron and Hermione out of here," Harry whispered in the vampire's ear.

"Chiron Acheron is taking care of that as we speak," Darius told Harry in a gentle, assuring voice. "You wouldn't know him, or probably trust him, because he's a Death Eater, but he's freakishly loyal to me."

"You put my friends in the care of a Death Eater!?" Harry was astounded that Darius would even consider something so dangerous!

"He's loyal to _me_, and I told him that the two of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Darius chuckled a little bit and patted Harry's shoulder. "Consider it my way of apologizing for refusing their Resurrection."

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Harry heard Lawrence shout toward Lord Voldemort. "YOU WERE TORCHING US LIKE ROMAN CANDLES, JUST SO YOU COULD GET TO THE MOST ANCIENT OF OUR CLANSMEN?! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

"Don't take it personally, Von Dorian," Voldemort said to Lawrence. "You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You and your relatives are no longer needed for tonight's services, and you all have my deepest apologies."

"That's not going to cut it!" an American vampire shouted out angrily. "I heard you! That gorgonix you used to punish the half-fairy killed the head of our Clan, and we're never going to forgive that!"

"And Harry Potter, unlike you, is a Von Dorian Clansman!" Lawrence spat out. "He became one after my niece, Cassandra—"

"Another one of Lydia's whelps, I take it?" Voldemort interrupted. "Who was the father of _that_ child?"

"Claudius," Lydia curtly interrupted. "My Lord, I cannot harm the Potter boy."

"Why?" Voldemort grabbed the lamia by the shoulders and began to shake her as he had another Death Eater earlier. "Because he's protected by the blood pact of your Clan?"

"That's only one reason," Lawrence hissed, obviously angry with his sister. "She's also a Nemesarist!"

There was such a great silence, Harry could hear himself breathing. It was clear the vampire—like the thirty-something others—was not in any mood to keep the secrets of his sister and her accomplices. "So is Severus!"

Voldemort looked at Snape and asked in a soft and venomous voice, "Is it true? Are you in that crowd also?" When Snape said nothing, Harry watched with a mixed sense of satisfaction and horror as Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse on the Potions Master.

"Answer me, damn you!"

"Yes!" Snape screamed out in pain. "I am a Nemesarist!"

"I don't see what the great Crisis of Nemesarium is," Darius spoke aloud. "We're not harming anyone unless we're provoked. While you were in your prime _before Harry came along_, you didn't give us any thought at all."

"I didn't know what it was!" Voldemort shouted, still cursing Snape. "I still don't! WHAT IS IT, SEVERUS!? YOU CAN TELL ME!"

"A…society…" Snape said painfully, "which follows—"

"_All together we now stand_…" Darius said loudly.

"_Nemesarium, hand in hand_…" Lydia responded.

"_But if the bond is ever crushed,_" Darius continued.

"_The traitor's death will then be rushed,_" Harry joined in with the lamia and the vampire. He'd memorized the ode.

Darius closed his eyes again and got the smile on his face. "_Enigma we all shall remain._"

"_While we unite in one domain!_" Lydia did the same, twirling her wand in her right hand. The Dark Lord looked confused, and even more surprised when he saw Harry joining in.

"_But if a turncoat tells it all…_" Harry was glaring directly at Snape. "_Work together to bring downfall!_"

Darius nodded grimly, and continued with, "_More than family we now are…_"

"_With neither contract nor a scar,_" Lydia continued the verse, clearly pained to be speaking it out.

"_But if a defector breaks the tie…_"

Darius looked down, now losing the smile. Lydia did the same, and then Harry. "

_It's a shame, but—"_

"…_he must die_," Snape ended grimly. He was still in serious pain, but managed to get up and face Voldemort. "I cannot tell you about Nemesarium, Sir."

"Are you against me, then, Severus?" Voldemort intensified the pain, causing the usually stoic Potions Master to howl in agony. "Are you with the Order of the Phoenix? With _Harry_?" Snape shouted something incoherent and then passed out.

"How about taking the damn curse off of him?" Darius asked Voldemort. "Unless you piss us off, we're not going to go up against you…and you're beginning to piss us off."

"The only Nemesarist I actually would consider a worthy foe would be you," Voldemort pointed at Darius, "and I'd hate to consider you my opponent, Darius, seeing as I admire and respect you so much."

Lawrence then began to snigger in a rather unusual way, making himself behave extremely out of character. Harry couldn't help but think the fire had roasted the poor fellow's mind a bit too much. But soon, the laughter stopped and was replaced with a choking noise. Harry watched with shock—even _more_ shock!—as Lawrence fell to the ground, gagging and choking on his own tongue, just as Professor Parenein had done a day or so before the ManiFest gathering. But nobody had put a spell on Lawrence Von Dorian, as far as he knew. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the Nemesarist's Ring on Lawrence's hand, and then understood; Lawrence had betrayed Nemesarium by his actions, and would die for it.

"Why?" Harry shouted at Darius. "Why kill him?"

"Why kill who, Harry?" Darius was confused.

"Lawrence Von Dorian!" Harry pointed at the choking vampire. "Someone put the Asphyxiation Charm on him!"

"No, nobody did," Darius said. "People who betray Nemesarium out of cruelty always meet unpleasant deaths. Who did you think we were aiming the ode at? Severus? He would've been forgiven for letting our secret out through that circumstance. If he had done like Lawrence and simply let it go out of hate or spite for a member he was angry with, he'd be dying along with Lawrence." He then whispered in Harry's ear, "I'm sure you'll like the new Clan Matriarch better than Lawrence, anyway."

"Who?" Harry whispered back, and then realized he knew who would take over with Lawrence gone. "Lydia?"

"Yes," Darius then gave Harry a quick push and said, "Try to get out of here, alright? Severus and Lydia are right over there, ready to sneak you out of here while I stall the Dark Lord."

"But if I kill him—"

"Do you honestly _think_ you could kill him here? In the center of Dark Magic Circle out in the moonlight? Besides, you don't even have your wand on you, now do you?"

Harry felt in his pocket and realized Darius was right…he didn't have his wand!

"Chiron has it," Darius told Harry. "I'll get it back as soon as he gets back over here."

"Sir!" Chiron Acheron came stumbling in, and Harry got the feeling 'Sir' could mean either Voldemort _or_ Darius. Acheron was a middle-aged fellow with prematurely grey hair, a wavering chin, and a bit of a beer belly. He approached Voldemort and then bowed before Darius. "It is great to have you back with us."

"You misunderstand me, Chiron," Darius knelt down to look the man in the face. "I'm here to have a word with Lord Voldemort; I'm not here to return to my old ways. But, I am aware that you have Harry Potter's wand. May I have it?"

"If you would honor me with taking some of my blood first, Sir, I will give you anything," Acheron sounded eager and pulled his hood back. After that, he scraped his flopping ponytail back to show a tanned and slightly wrinkled neck.

"Gladly," Darius said in a sweet voice as he bent down further to taste the blood of the loyal Death Eater. Harry watched in disgust as Darius fed on Acheron, who looked like he was having the most amazing sensation out of the bite. After that, Acheron handed Darius the wand, bowed again, and walked back toward the other Death Eaters. The vampire then turned toward Voldemort and said, "This place isn't grand enough for your final battle with Potter. I'm sure you agree with me on that."

"It doesn't matter where I finish him off," Voldemort told Darius in a voice Harry could only assume was friendly. "As long as I can destroy him, I can be at peace."

"Are you sure?" Darius asked the Dark Lord. Harry began to walk toward Snape and Lydia (who were both right outside The Black Annis) and away from the Death Eaters (who were all too fascinated with Darius and Voldemort to pay him any attention)…just as Darius had requested him to do.

"I thought you'd be one of those who cared about honor and all that comes along with it. Would you rather have it said that you beat Potter in a fair fight because you were the more powerful of the two, or be remembered as a malicious Dark Lord who took advantage of his victim in his darkest hour?"

"People should fear me," Voldemort told Darius, "and whether they admire me or not doesn't matter."

"I agree with that," Harry heard Darius said, "and it makes perfect sense, but people might get the feeling that you're not quite as powerful as they thought you were if you were to kill the boy at this time. Give him a bit more time; make him more of a challenge."

"Then he could kill me," Voldemort was beginning to get angry with Darius. "I plan on being immortal, Darius; how can I be immortal if that child kills me?"

"I never could find immortality," Darius said, "in all its purity. I'm practically immortal, but I _have_ died a few times. So—technically—I am _not_ immortal in the way you sense. I could offer you the chance to become a vampire, if that's what you want, but I wouldn't recommend it. And then there's the Fountain of Youth, which only offers eternal youth, but _not_ eternal life—"

"You'd make me a vampire?" Voldemort inquired.

"Certainly," Darius said, "under one condition."

"Name it."

"Potter leaves your Raid alive."

"I can always get him later, I guess, if it means I can have your aide in making my death something harder to achieve," Voldemort decided. "You taught me that Death is the worst thing in the Universe, and that I should find a way to make myself immortal, at any cost! Vampirism is as close to immortality as I can get, seeing as the Elixir of Life was destroyed along with the Philosopher's Stone…"

"Potter, you've lingered around _enough_," Snape grabbed Harry's shirt sleeve and dragged him into The Black Annis. He then slammed the door and scowled at him. "Celeste managed to sneak into the Raid and get Remus and Sirius, in case you were wondering. As for Weasley and Granger, I administered a sleeping tonic to the both of them to calm their nerves. They're probably asleep by now."

"The Annis is safe, right?" asked Harry.

"Yes," Lydia told him. "Harry, I hope you didn't lose faith in me out there."

"You're _truly_ a Death Eater, then?" Harry inquired. "I always half-doubted it until I saw you in the robes for myself!"

"I was forced into it by my husband," Lydia said, "and then it became so addictive, like some powerful drug, and I couldn't quit…it was a way to release my lamia instincts." She then looked down and said, "I've now betrayed them by helping you, so I'm probably not going to be alive much longer. Sure, this will be my first Death, and I'll have a few spares, but they'll continue to hunt me, just you wait."

She looked at Harry with such a sad, sorrowful face that Harry really didn't know _what_ to think of her. "I'd never kill you, after all you've done for my daughter," she told him. "Besides, Lily trusted me to take care of you if anything happened to her, James, and Sirius."

"It's a good thing you joined Nemesarium, Potter," Snape icily added, "otherwise I wouldn't have risked my life out there tonight to cover for you. I'd have let Darius do it himself."

"I hope the Dark Lord spares him," Lydia muttered, looking out the window. "Taunting him as he was doing, I'm surprised Darius has survived _that_ long out there."

"He's adored by the Dark Lord," Snape told Lydia and Harry. "Dr. Hemlock's work is praised by him and he's requested every Death Eater with children to educate them by her books. However, his admiration for the Dark Arts Guru is nowhere near as strong as his affection for the man who influenced him most. There are rumors that Darius became his role-model immediately after the Dark Lord sat down for his first Necromancy lesson, and that several one-on-one hours were spent, teaching and learning about Death and how to change the most ultimate of fates. Darius has done the same with Cassandra for years, and you see how she behaves around him…some of the older Death Eaters tell me that the Dark Lord used to admire him in the same way. Almost all the philosophy the Dark Lord puts stock into is what Darius used to believe before becoming a Nemesarist."

"'Death being the worst thing and it being wise to deter it as long as possible' was one of those beliefs, am I right?" Harry asked Snape, who only nodded silently.

"Why don't you check on your godfather, Potter?" Snape suggested. "He's in his room, getting his burns treated by Celeste. Besides, _she_ wants to speak with you before you start getting too comfortable."

Harry decided to take Snape's advice and went into Sirius's room. His godfather looked absolutely pitiful with those burns everywhere, and bandages covering about half of his body. "Harry…" Sirius said weakly, "hi…"

"Sirius, are you alright?" Harry asked. "I was afraid I'd lost you again."

"I'm alive, and I'll be okay," Sirius assured Harry. "I'm just hurting pretty badly right now." He smiled a bit and said, "The good news is that Celeste said only a few of the burns are deep enough to leave permanent scars."

"That _is_ good news," Harry agreed. "I'm glad you'll get better, and I hope it's soon, for both our sakes."

"Yeah," Sirius chuckled a little. "Me too. Ron and Hermione already came in here; I'm glad Voldemort didn't decide to torch them…I wouldn't even wish that on Snivellus." His eyes focused on Harry's left hand. "Oh, what's that?"

"A ring," Harry replied. He wanted to tell Sirius all about Nemesarium, but he didn't want to end up like Lawrence Von Dorian, writhing about on the floor, choking on his own tongue until death mercifully came.

"I _know_ it's a ring, you goof!" Sirius laughed a little more. "I saw that Snivellus, Darius, Celeste, and Lydia are all wearing them. I remembered my older brother—Aldebaran—having one like that, too. Does it mean anything?"

Harry looked at Celeste, who was standing silently in the corner of the room, to see if it would be okay to tell Sirius. "It's not betraying anyone," she said, "but make sure he promises to keep it secret."

"I'm a Nemesarist," Harry told Sirius. "I'm sure you know what that is."

"Of course I do," Sirius said. "While I was in Azkaban, Aurelius told me all about it." He grinned and said, "Just don't turn Dark Lord on us, Harry."

"Oh, ha!" Harry couldn't help but laugh…Ron had said that before! "Very funny! Well, Sirius; I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Harry," Sirius said, "good night."

After leaving Sirius's room, he approached Celeste. "Snape—"

"You're a Nemesarist, Harry; you can call us all on a first-name basis," Celeste interrupted.

"Oh, okay," Harry put that thought into mind. "_Severus_ told me that you wanted to talk to me about something."

"He wasn't lying," Celeste told Harry. "What I wanted to do was ask you about my niece."

"What about her?" Harry wasn't sure what Celeste was talking about. "Something wrong with Marpessa, Celeste?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with her," Celeste told Harry, "but I wanted to know if you'd mind looking over her sometime next year? I'm sure she'll be a Ravenclaw—like Lycaon and yours truly—but if she ends up in Gryffindor, could you do what Cora and Naomi should be doing instead of slinking around the Necropolis and be a bit of a sibling figure for her?"

"So you want me to take care of her?" Harry didn't like the sound of that. "I thought she was the type who could take care of herself."

"She is," Celeste said, "but she needs to have an older figure there to look up to. If she doesn't have someone like you spend time with her, she'll probably wind up like her father."

"I thought you liked your brother's independence," Harry was really getting confused. "You don't want Marpessa to be like Professor Fen—er…Lycaon?"

"One Lycaon Fenrir is enough," Celeste told Harry, and then laughed a bit. "I'm sure you'd agree with me."

Harry thought about that grisly fellow, scaring the crap out of all his students (save Cassandra, it seemed), and shivered. "I like your brother, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I could handle a junior Lycaon."

"I'm glad you see things my way," Celeste patted Harry's shoulder and added, "It's not a full-time job, Harry, and if she gets to be too much of a handful, feel free to quit at any time. But she does admire you, and I'd rather her leave Hogwarts more like Harry Potter than Lycaon Fenrir…or her little friend."

"You mean Teiresias?" Harry was interested now. "What's wrong with Teiresias?"

"He's a sweet little boy," Celeste began, but looked down as she said it, "and he really has been a wonderful friend to my niece, but he's a little…er…_creepy_, if you know what I mean. I grew up with creepy—I had _Lycaon_ and _Medora_ for siblings!—but I don't want Marpessa to come back home as a junior Death Eater. That fits into the _Lycaon_ category, too. As a Nemesarist, you probably already knew that Lycaon was in the Death Eaters for a short time before resigning. I wasn't; I was the one that knocked some sense into him."

"Teiresias probably won't be a Death Eater," Harry told Celeste. "His sister's my age, and—"

"Cassandra's in Nemesarium, too," Celeste interrupted. "I know Cassandra very well."

"Then you'd agree with me that she wouldn't become a Death Eater," Harry finished for Celeste. The werewolf said nothing, but simply nodded. "Teiresias, too; he seems too decent to join in such circles."

"Sure," Celeste said, "but please…for Marpessa's sake…keep an eye on her occasionally next year."

"Very well," Harry said, shaking Celeste's hand. "I will."

Celeste handed Harry a key and said, "I moved your room for safety precautions; you're on the top floor, in the highest tower, right next to the attic. Don't leave the room until daybreak, and nobody else can get in there or harm you while you're resting."

"Thanks, Celeste," Harry said, still feeling a bit awkward talking to a woman who was almost forty years old in this way. He took his key, and went up to his room, ready to rest.

His dream was rather nice, but definitely fell under the category of unusual:

_In the dream, Harry was walking toward an enormous castle that looked as if it were being lived in. He looked around to see poles with matching flags on them. The flags were a royal shade of violet and had what looked like the face of Medusa in the center, etched in white. There was also a marble statue of a young witch with pigs at her feet. The plaque on the stand stated, '__**Circe, our Great Mother**__.' There also, Harry found that the name of the castle was 'Elysian.' A child sat there, outside the castle. She was about three of four years old, playing with_ _an older girl. She was a tiny little thing with large, brown eyes and dark red hair to her shoulders. _

"_Olivia!" a male voice called out, and a boy about Harry's age—maybe a year older—came up, carrying a broomstick with him. He was rather handsome with short, wavy red hair, and icy-blue eyes. Clutched in one of his hands was a Quaffle, so Harry was guessing this boy was either a Chaser or Keeper for his House Quidditch team, or else just playing that role at the moment with a few friends. It was also clear the boy was in Gryffindor, because he was wearing his school scarf. _

"_You're filthy; father's not going to be happy with you if you come inside __**that**__ dirty."_

"_Oh, come on, Nathan!" the little girl, Olivia, called out, and rushed up to her brother, leaving a mud print on his white shirt, much to Nathan's disgust. "I was just playing with Stella Piper!"_

'_**Stella Piper?**__' Harry thought to himself, '__**As in Stella Piper **__**Skylarke**__**!? This must be Morty's family!**__' _

"_Diana, back me up here! Nathan's being mean!"_

_A rather timid and mousy-looking girl with short and curly chestnut hair and big brown eyes like her little sister's came into the group also along with Nathan, Stella Piper, and little Olivia. _

"_Were you picking on Liver Snap again?" she asked Nathan in a rather timid voice. "Because, if you were, I'm going to have to tell Mum or Uncle Balthazar." _

'_**Balthazar…I bet this **__**is**__** Morty's family!**__' Harry thought with shock._

"_Liver Snap was making a mess," Nathan and Stella Piper harped at Diana, who looked quite bewildered. "Isn't that right, Evelyn?" Stella Piper called out to a girl about Ginny's age who was passing by._

_Harry got a good look at Evelyn as she came by and thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. However, she didn't look all that friendly_._ Her hair was dark red, and her eyes were, like Nathan's, ice-blue. _

"_Er…if she's dirty, it's her fault. You three should just give the little pipsqueak a break."_

"_Yeah!" Olivia pouted at her older brother. "And quit calling me Liver Snap!" _

_Stella Piper, Diana, and Nathan walked off after that, but a short, raven-haired woman came up a few minutes later. "Mummy!" Olivia seemed to know better than to hug her mother with muddy hands. A man came up also with dark red hair, the icy eyes, and the same sways of arrogance as all the children Harry had seen so far._

"_Daddy!" _

_Harry got tired of watching the little girl, Olivia (Or 'Liver Snap', as he'd heard her siblings and cousin call her), and decided to go inside the castle. Inside was a man Harry recognized as the fellow Sirius had taunted in the Necropolis…Balthazar Skylarke. It was clear the castle belonged to __**him**__ and not the other man Harry had seen earlier. _

"_Someone there?" Balthazar asked, turning his head toward Harry, and then proceeded to look around, obviously not seeing his company. "I must be seeing things…"_

_Harry peered out the window to see Nathan was back to playing Quidditch with another handsome boy who looked like he was in his early twenties. This other boy, Harry guessed, was Morty's older brother, Míguel Skylarke. Like most of the family, he had the icy blue eyes, but he had long, straight chestnut hair, making him look like a much handsomer version of Claudius Snape for a few moments before the light hit him in a more flattering way. Harry noticed that Míguel was wearing an '__**England National Quidditch**__' team jersey, and was playing around with a golden snitch. Harry remembered Morty saying that Míguel had been given the opportunity to play on a National Quidditch team…Harry also couldn't help but think that if Míguel Skylarke had been his age, that none of the guys would have had a chance with any of the girls. _

"_No, Nathan!" Harry heard Míguel shout angrily at his cousin. "You just screwed up that __**perfect**__ opening! Let's try this again, so you can have a smidgen of a chance to play as Keeper for Gryffindor instead of that Fallowin brat! If I can be a famous Quidditch player, I'm sure you can do it too, so quit being a loser!"_

_Not impressed with Míguel's pep talks and treatment of his slightly-younger cousin, Harry decided to walk around the kitchen. He saw several house elves carving out pumpkins, so he figured it was Halloween. There was a small card on the table that said '__**Happy 18**__**th**__** Birthday, Mortimer**__', further proving Harry's assumption that this was indeed where Morty lived. He then heard a bit of scrambling about in the nearby wine cellar, and saw Evelyn scurrying about in there, trying to find a bottle opener. He wanted to help her, but he had the same texture as a ghost—or less—in the dream. _

"_Scruffy!" Evelyn called out angrily, and a house elf showed up._

"_Yes, Mistress Evelyn?" asked Scruffy the house elf._

"_Do you know where I can find a bottle opener?" Evelyn asked the curious elf._

"_You shan't be drinking, Mistress Evelyn. Your mother, Mistress Mara, would really be unhappy with Scruffy if you were to come to dinner tipsy."_

"_Fine," Evelyn grumbled, putting the bottle back. "I'll go find Morty." _

'_**Morty!**__' Harry thought, and decided to follow Evelyn to wherever-it-was she was going. _

_Unfortunately, Evelyn apparated, and Harry lost sight of her. However, he could hear a slightly-familiar voice coming from the library…it was Diana, the short-haired girl Harry thought might be a First or Second Year at Hogwarts. _

"_And now it comes to this," Diana's voice carried, "this love that binds me forever. But will he ever look at me? I hope so…he's so dreamy." She was sitting by the fireplace, swooning over whoever-he-was._

"_What are you doing?" a curious voice Harry recognized even more stated, and then Harry gasped; there was Mortimer E. Skylarke, as a very young adult…eighteen years old!_

_Diana jumped in surprise. "Oh! It's nothing, Morty. Go away and leave me alone."_

_Morty sat down in a chair and laughed a bit as he watched Diana pout at him. He pulled out a book, __1001 Horrendous Curses For Your Nemesis__ by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock, and began his Dark Arts studies. "I was just curious, Diana."_

"_You wouldn't understand. I'm in love!"_

"_You're in love?" Morty chuckled at that. "Diana, you're __**eleven**__."_

"_Age is but a number; love is eternal," Diana said dreamily. "Adonis is the One."_

"_He wouldn't be interested in you," Mortimer said flatly._

"_Why wouldn't he be interested? Am I too ugly or something?" Diana cowered into a corner. She looked like she was going to cry. "You think I'm ugly?"_

"_It's not like that; Diana, you're not ugly at all. It's just…wait, did you mean Adonis __**Ebonyste**__?" _

_When Diana nodded, Morty groaned, and Harry couldn't help but laugh…Ebonyste had a fan girl back then! _

"_He's a year older than Evelyn! You should be looking at First or Second Years, not __**Sixth**__ Years!" _

_At that, Diana __**did**__ cry. "Aw…I didn't mean to—"_

"_Morty, you're so mean!" Diana stormed out with her pink diary. "I'm going to write him a letter to prove our love!"_

_Morty shrugged._ _It was clear that he didn't feel all that great about making Diana cry, but he did proceed to jump onto that outrageously expensive-looking chair and read in his book. Harry had seen Teiresias reading the same book back in the present; it was clear that it had probably been one of Dr. Hemlock's bestsellers. _

"_At last…a little privacy from—"_

"_Morty," Evelyn said, walking in. "Where are the bottle openers?"_

_Mortimer yawned. "I don't know. Go ask Míguel—"_

"_I already did."_

"_What about Stella Piper?"_

"_I already asked her too," Evelyn looked like she was very impatient, because she was tapping her foot irritably. "Come on; I want a little wine before one of the adults catches me down there!"_

"_Go ask Scruffy for the bottle openers."_

"_Morty, Scruffy wouldn't give it to me!" Evelyn snarled angrily. "And I want a drink before dinner!"_

"_There's a spell you can use," Morty offered, sounding a bit annoyed with Evelyn. "Pop it open with '__**Ejecto,**__' alright?"_

"_Thanks, Morty," said Evelyn. "you're the best. Just don't tell my parents, Aunt Angeles or Uncle Balthazar!"_

"_Look, even if you were hiding your latest boyfriend under your bed, I don't think I'd have the heart to tell on you, Evelyn."_

"_What a relief!" Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "How did you know I had him down there?" _

_When Morty opened his mouth, about to argue, Evelyn laughed. "I was joking, okay?" She walked out, wand clutched tightly in her hand._

_Morty put his book away and drifted off into a peaceful dream. Harry looked through the book he was reading to see that Dr. Hemlock really hadn't changed that much over the years; she'd just lost a lot of weight, but her personality hadn't evolved at all. The writing style was ageless; there was no difference between __1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis__ and __Dark Arts Miscellany__ in the style, and both were loaded with all sorts of unpleasant facts._

"_Oy, Morty! It's time for dinner!" Míguel and Nathan shouted, coming in from their Quidditch practice._

_Morty unwillingly got up, angry to be disturbed by his older brother and one of his cousins. He splashed some cold water on his face to wake himself up, and then he went into the dining room, following Míguel and Nathan._

_Everyone was seated, and they all cast a dirty look at Morty. "What took you so long?" Balthazar grumbled. "We were all waiting on you."_

"_I'm sorry, Dad," said Morty politely. "I fell asleep."_

"_Why couldn't you have been more like Míguel?" Angeles whined. The way she said this made Harry think she said it quite often to Morty. He could also tell that it hurt Mrs. Skylarke's younger son each time she said it._

"_What a pity I'm not what you wanted," Morty snapped sarcastically. "Contrary to your beliefs, Míguel is far from being perfect."_

"_How __**dare**__ you talk to your poor, innocent mother like that?" Balthazar snarled. "Morty, you're excused from the table."_

"_**Finally**__," Morty hissed._

"_Go eat with the house elves!"_

"_Yes, Dad," said Morty. "I was going to do that before you started to yell."_

_Balthazar groaned after Morty thundered off. _

"_I'm really beginning to grow weary of having him in the house. I can't wait until he moves out."_

_A few more hours passed, until everyone else had fallen asleep. Harry followed Morty as he sneaked out of the castle and went out into the woods on his broomstick. It was clear that Morty wanted to get away from a family that didn't want to claim him. It was beautiful out there, in the pallid moonlight. The snow came down gently, and some of the icy flakes rested gently on his hair. He had been out here for hours, Harry's watch said it was three in the morning. As Morty started heading toward his home, he saw a hooded young man about his age—maybe a year or two older—dressed in black. _

"_Severus," he said in a rather friendly voice. "How are you?"_

"_There's no time for pleasantries, Mortimer," Snape said coldly and began to drag Morty deeper into the woods._

"_What's going on?" Morty looked a bit confused. "Severus, what—"_

"_Skylarke, there's no time to explain," Snape whispered irritably. "Someone's out here to get rid of you."_

"_What?" Morty said as Snape dragged him to a creek. "Please, tell me—"'_

Harry's alarm clock in his room woke him up…it was 3:01 in the morning. He went back to sleep, but it was a dreamless sleep…

When he awoke later in the morning, nobody was there in his room. Celeste hadn't lied in saying nobody else would be able to get in until he left. Once he got up and dressed to head back to Hogwarts, he left the room and returned to the main lobby to give Celeste the key.

"Breakfast is free here, since you're still a student," Celeste told Harry and then gave him a sly grin. "But since you're also a You-Know-What, you'll always have free room and board here."

"Thanks," Harry said, and then proceeded to head into the tavern area. Remus, Ron, and Hermione had already left, but Snape and Lydia were sitting there. "Lydia, you didn't go home?"

"No," Lydia told Harry. "I stood guard outside your door all night. I left my post around five in the morning to take a shower, and I've been in here with Severus ever since."

"Potter, your rash actions last night could have cost even more people their lives," Snape told Harry.

"You were out there, helping!" Harry argued.

"I won't pretend you understand these things," Snape told Harry. "You probably won't until you're _my_ age."

"Anyway, Celeste wanted you to know that your friends made it back to Hogwarts safely," Lydia told Harry. "Lycaon came to get them. I offered to give them a ride in my Volkswagen, but everyone save Ron refused."

Harry was a bit disappointed that Lydia was wearing more than just lingerie, but he wasn't missing out on much, seeing as the lamia _was _wearing some rather low-cut and revealing clothing.

"I think I lost Hermione's trust out there last night."

"You almost lost mine," Harry told Lydia, "but when you helped us get out of there…I felt ashamed for doubting you." He meant every word of it, too.

"That's very nice of you to tell me that," Lydia grinned and said, "So, do you want to me to take you back to Hogwarts in my car?"

"Sure," Harry said, and then realized Snape had said the same word at the same time. "Hold on…you're riding too?"

"She offered, didn't she?" Snape jeered.

"What about Darius?" Harry asked as he began to eat his breakfast. "Is he alright?" Nobody said anything. "Well…? Is he?"

Still, silence. Harry looked up from his plate to see that although Lydia and Snape were silent, it wasn't out of sorrow; the two merely had food in their mouths…what a relief!

"Darius is back at Hogwarts," Snape told Harry. "You don't need to worry about him."

"But we left him by himself among all those Death Eaters!" Harry was horrified. "I'm sure Voldemort would kill him for the way he was behaving!"

"Darius could piss on the Dark Lord and get away with it," Lydia told Harry. "Not that he'd do it, but I'm sure he would survive. You see, there's a certain person the Dark Lord respects and admires too much to even consider killing, and that would be Darius Ahsimal. Only those who have an unfathomable hatred for vampires—or an unfathomable amount of stupidity—would even consider his death."

"Isn't he down to his last life?" asked Harry. "He said that quite a while back up at Hogwarts."

"Don't repeat this," Snape whispered in Harry's ear in a threatening voice, "but that is true. Darius committed suicide each and every time, so there's a theory that he's like the Ancients in being able to survive any form of death save self-inflicted death in free will." His dark eyes glared into Harry's and said, "He attempted it this year, in case you didn't know. If it hadn't been for Morty's intervention, the Grand High Necromancer would have thrown away his final life and become Truly Dead."

"I've never died," Lydia said to Harry very proudly. "But I'm not an Ancient like Darius, and can die in several ways."

"Ask Darius about immortality," Snape continued to whisper in Harry's ear. "His views on the subject are different from anyone else's."

"So, he's back at Hogwarts, and he's alright?" Harry wanted to make sure.

"He seemed a bit upset about something," Lydia admitted. "Severus knows what it was, but I have no idea."

"Yes, I know what happened," Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders and dragged his ear so close to his mouth that Harry could almost feel Snape's skin…it was most unpleasant. "To save the lives of you and your friends, he did the thing he most hated to do."

"What would that—"

"Darius made Lord Voldemort a vampire last night."

_nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn_

_Hello everyone! Here we are…only 2 more chapters to go plus the epilogue. I must say I am deeply saddened at the lack of reviews for my story. If it weren't for the fact that I try to always finish what I start, I'd have stopped posting this fic a long time ago. But….I will continue to the end. It's already finished anyways, just needs to be posted, and Nita is taking care of that._

_Please do review. _

_Until next time, eternally yours….Morty_


	50. Chapter 49

Chapter Forty-Nine:

End-Of-The-Year Merrymaking

Returning to Hogwarts was comforting, but disturbing at the same time. Several people were worried about Harry as he came back, asking him what had happened, and how he'd managed to escape Voldemort. The tale he had to tell was rather honest, but disturbing to the listeners. Remus apparently had to tell a certain number of the faculty members his version of the story also, because he was trying to keep people like Flitwick and Sprout away from him as best he could. There were only a couple of days left of school, and Harry couldn't be more relieved. The incentives were beginning to border on the ridiculous side, and each day was less entertaining than the previous one. Cassandra's comics had finally made their way to a bulletin board in the Great Hall so everyone could view them, and for once, Harry felt as if his friend might have done something everyone liked.

"You mean to tell me that _Cassandra Snape_ drew that?" Harry heard Katie Bell ask Cho. "I didn't know she was an artist, or funny."

"Yeah, I know," Cho was laughing. "I always thought she was the serious type until I saw what she had to say about Beastie."

Harry noticed that the Ravenclaw girl was holding an orange in one hand, and he just _knew_ that it was for the lovable little toilet monster. "I'll miss that little bugger next year."

"As for Cassandra," Katie added, "I think it's clear I misjudged her. I honestly thought she'd be a lot like Professor Snape, so I never got around to talking to her."

She looked over at Harry and said, "You show up a lot in her funnies."

"Oh, do I?"

Harry pretended to be a bit coy, and acted surprised when he saw a comic about the pink Mood Drop incident with Malfoy.

"Ugh…she posted _that_ one?"

Several people began to laugh, seeing as Ebonyste had posted a few photographs of the incident right next to it. In fact, he seemed to have photos of everything that had been in the public eye. Cassandra walked by, a faint smile on her pallid face.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Harry teased. "Why don't you come over here? Everyone's commenting about your work!"

"How nice," Cassandra said in her slightly dark voice.

"Did you _have_ to post the one where Malfoy puckers up?" Harry asked his friend, and both Katie and Cho began to laugh some more. Cassandra looked like she was trying to hold back the laugh, but did a miserable job because she let out a rather short, quiet chuckle.

"Sure, I agree it's funny, but, really…that wasn't too much fun when it happened."

"In that photo, Harry," Cassandra pointed to a certain picture with her wand. "You look like you're enjoying it."

Harry looked, and—sure enough—he looked like he was enjoying the Malfoy kiss!

"Didn't Ebonyste threaten to blackmail you with that one?"

"That jerk put it up here!" Harry was a little peeved. "I'm going to get even with that pointy-eared git once and for all!"

He stomped over toward the teachers' table, his wand in hand, and shouted, "Professor Ebonyste!"

"Yeah?" Ebonyste didn't look up. "What is it, wonder-boy?"

"You put that nasty photo up on the bulletin board!" Harry sounded very unhappy about that. "Why'd you do it?"

"Because," Ebonyste jeered, "it was funny and it went along perfectly with Cassandra's comic." He looked closer at Harry, and his ears drooped. "You didn't find it amusing?"

"Quite the contrary, Professor," Harry admitted. "I found it embarrassing and very immature of you to put it up."

"Big surprise," Ebonyste shrugged his shoulders. "I _am_ immature. Now, how about letting me finish my strawberry pop tarts in peace?"

Harry began to storm back over to the Gryffindor table, and then Ebonyste called out, "Oh, by the way, I made copies of that picture, seeing as Professors Snape and Fenrir wanted to keep a Polaroid Memory."

"Fenrir too?!" Harry was outraged.

"Yeah, he keeps scrapbooks," Ebonyste told Harry. "Now, about my pop tarts—"

"I'm leaving," Harry grumbled, and then sat down between Ginny and Dean. "Hello."

"Hi," said Dean.

"What's wrong?" asked Ginny. "Don't like Cassandra's comics?"

"That's not it; I really like them," Harry said. "I'm just peeved with Ebonyste for posting those photos. I'm sure Malfoy's peeved too."

"Oh, I'm more than peeved with that slimeball!" Malfoy called from the Slytherin table. "I'm _pissed _at him!"

"What lovely language, Draco," Cassandra snapped, writing (or drawing) some more in that green journal. "Be careful; my uncle's right over there."

"You did one about my track running!" Celia chirped by the Ravenclaw bulletin board. "Cassandra, this is beautiful!"

"Cassandra," Winnefred and Steve both were pushing each other to get to her. "Sign my copy of your comic? Please?"

Winnefred shoved Steve out of the way (poor Steve got his braces caught on something when he fell) and gave Cassandra an annoyingly pitiful look. "I love your work!"

"Who'd have thought,_you_, of all people!" Malfoy piped up, in the corner. "I guess you enjoy being the center of attention for once."

"It's happened before," Cassandra grumbled. "I hate it."

Ron looked disappointed as he read the front page of The Daily Prophet. The main article read:

**You-Know-Who, Spotted Last Night in Dark Magic Circle**

He then looked at Harry and said, "Have you seen Ahsimal since last night?"

Harry looked down at his plate and sighed. "No…I haven't. Have you?"

"No. Hermione?"

"Not even a glimpse of him, Ron."

"I wonder if he's up in his room," Harry thought aloud. He grabbed the last piece of his breakfast and left the Great Hall. It was important to him—he felt—to see Darius. The long and winding staircases finally took him to Turret Row, and he proceeded down to Turret Thirteen, where a sign had been nailed to the door:

'**It is not the magic, but the magician, who determines good or evil**'.

Harry noticed that it had the seven-point star on it also, and couldn't help but smile. That philosophy was the root of Nemesarium. He knocked on the door, and soon, he heard footsteps. The door slowly opened, and Harry saw a pair of beautifully mauve eyes looking directly into his.

"Hello, Darius."

"Came to see if I was really okay, didn't you?" Darius sounded very grim. "Come on in."

Harry took up Darius's offer and walked up the spiral staircase all the way up to the teacher's bedroom.

"I'm sorry that I can't offer you anything to eat or drink up here, but—"

"You look a bit troubled," Harry interrupted. "Is it because you bit Voldemort?"

"You know damn well that's why I'm troubled," Darius responded in a voice Harry wasn't sure how to label in the emotion category. "He's changed so much from when I was a Death Eater, his most-favored Advocate…and I fear this change. He's turned more bloodthirsty than I have, and I've had several lifetimes-worth of hate hurled at me. What's he got to be so angry about?"

His white face had two purple half-moons under his eyes, and Harry could tell that he hadn't slept at all. "It's horrible, Harry, what I have done."

"But, why?"

"It takes a lot more to kill a vampire than it does to kill a human being," Darius told Harry, "and I'm sure you already knew that. To defeat him, Harry, you'll have to become the thing that I hate and fear most. It's a real shame, though, seeing as all the vampires you have met so far have truly loved you as one of their own. At least, I know I have."

There were tears in the Necromancer's eyes. "You're…you're going to have to become…a Slayer."

"What? No! I couldn't—"

"Only a Slayer would be able to kill Lord Voldemort now," Darius cut Harry short. "Death Curses don't work on the undead. However, if _he_ aimed one at _you_, I'm sure it'd work." He wiped some of the tears off his face with a sky-blue silk sleeve. "But, biting Lord Voldemort was the only way I could get you out of there, Harry…and now, I've turned you—the boy I admire most—into my own worst enemy…"

Harry couldn't bear to look at Darius; it pained him too much to see the vampire bury his face in his hands and wail into the quilts on his antique bed. He put his hand on Darius's shoulder and said, "Never. I'll never be your enemy, Darius."

"What…?" Darius looked up at Harry, his hands practically _filled_ with tears. "Why not?"

"I wear the Nemesarist's Ring, as do you," Harry said. "If I become a vampire Slayer, as you've told me I must become now, I'll never turn my back on another Nemesarist, especially to one who's done so much for me."

The look on Darius's face pained Harry even more.

"I don't want to be a Slayer. Are you _sure_ there isn't another way?"

"I'll have to show you myself the weaknesses of vampires, what can kill us, and even what can kill an Ancient. Most of what the Slayers of today use is just a bunch of pseudo-religious bullshit that doesn't work. Poppy seeds, for example, don't repel vampires when they're hungry enough. If you eat them, and give them time to digest, they'll make your blood taste nasty for a week, but that's it. As for red string, it doesn't do anything except look pretty."

Darius looked so dejected, as if he'd given up the last thing important to him. "Harry, there's only a few things that can kill Lord Voldemort besides you now."

"What are they?" Harry asked Darius, hoping it was something that might tempt the Dark Lord and kill him once and for all.

"Garlic in mass quantities," Darius said. "Seeing as I'm an Ancient, I'm merely allergic. He—however—is freshly bitten, and too much garlic could probably kill him. The other thing—this is very tempting for almost all vampires—is sunlight. You do notice that I go out in it only when I absolutely must?"

"I thought that was because you were albino," Harry said. "It doesn't bother Cassandra too much."

"She can tolerate it, as can any Von Dorian," Darius told Harry, "because they're _born_ into their nature. For those who are freshly bitten, sunlight is the most seductive temptation to face, and nearly ninety percent of fresh vampires will die before their first year of their fate comes to a close, just because they wish to go about in the day just one more time…it's horrible to watch."

"_Sunlight_ can kill him?" Harry was surprised. "He'd trade in the days of his life to be immortal like you?"

"A lot of idiots do that," Darius admitted, "but the Dark Lord's not stupid. He's just desperate to live forever. I told him about fifty years ago that it wasn't the best idea to become a vampire, and I refused to drink his blood until I had no further choice and there was no dodging it any longer. Now, every six months, he will have to come to me to have the last bits of his blood drained for the next twenty years. Then, after that time frame is up, he will be able to go in the sun yet again. He'll still blister and burn, but he won't become a pile of dried bones upon contact."

"So, for the next twenty years, you'll be drinking his blood-elixir mix?" Harry repeated the information.

"Yes, that's right," Darius told him. "But, wait...there is something I can try…a month after school comes back into session, I'll have to drain him. It's deadly to have too much drained out of you, if you're not an Ancient."

"Suck him dry, then," Harry said. "That way, I won't have to turn my back on all the vampires I admire."

"You truly are what people would call a 'vampire lover,' Harry," Darius let out a bitter laugh, "and I hope that even though Lord Voldemort is a vampire, your opinion of our kind won't change at all. But, this may sound a bit out of place, but I assure you this is relating to what we've been speaking about."

"Go right ahead, Darius."

"Well, you see…you don't have to go back to the Dursleys for the summer. You could always come with me to New Orleans instead, and I could show you all you'd need to know about how to defeat the Dark Lord…"

Darius had closed his eyes, and let a few more tears stream, but it was clear he had almost cried himself dry. "Would you consider spending your summer with me? If you'd feel uncomfortable leaving the country for a month or two, I'll understand, but it would—"

"I don't mind," Harry told Darius. "If it'll help me destroy Voldemort, I'll do it."

"Just don't forget about me and the Von Dorians," Darius told him, "after you become a Slayer."

"I won't," Harry told Darius as he left the room. "I promise you…I won't forget."

Harry had to retell the story about how he escaped from Voldemort about a dozen times in the Gryffindor Common Room, much to his displeasure.

"Haven't you heard this _enough_?" he snapped at Giselle Acheron, who had slinked back to the girls' dormitory after that. "Ah, finally…" he grumbled to himself as Ron and Hermione came in.

"Sorry about that," said Ron, scooting next to Harry on the sofa. "It's been a long day for all of us. So…how was Ahsimal?"

"He's upset about what happened."

"But why?" Hermione was obviously unaware of _why_ Darius would be in such an unhappy mood. "He saved us, right? What could he _possibly_ have to be glum about?"

"He turned Voldemort into a vampire," Harry told his two best friends, and looked down, "also, Darius told me that now I'll have to become a Slayer to get rid of him."

"I don't see why that would make him upset, if the only vampire you intend to Slay is Voldemort himself," Hermione pointed out. "It's just another self-defense thing."

"I'm sure Quirrell, Ebonyste, and Furrier could tell you a _lot_ about being Slayers," Ron offered. "But why would Darius freak out about _you_ being a Slayer? The Von Dorian Clan would understand, right?"

"He also told me that Slaying is addictive to most people," Harry really didn't like the sound of that. "I don't want to end up like Mortius, Lewn, or any of that crowd."

"Lewn…" Ron thought for a moment, a smile on his face, "right…" There was suddenly the sound of a slammed door and stomping footsteps. "Oh no," he whispered to Harry and Hermione. "Looks like Nezura found us." He then got a bit louder and said, "Hello, Professor Nezura."

"Mph…" Nezura grumbled, and then hurled herself into one of the overstuffed armchairs. "I'm not a professor anymore, and haven't been one since that _harpy_ started teaching your Defense Against the Dark Arts class!"

"Talking about Dr. Hemlock, Professor?" Hermione asked, and Nezura nodded angrily. "Well, she won't be here next year. Maybe you can talk to Dumbledore about teaching again."

"Yeah!" Nezura seemed to be a lot happier now. "I'll do that first thing in the morning! But, you see, I'm going to have to spend the night in the Gryffindor Common Room. Don kicked me out of the flat."

It was then that Harry noticed the little Auror was dressed in a pair of grey pajamas with little cartoon mice on them; Nezura was even wearing a pair of furry slippers that looked like a pair of mice.

"I hope you guys don't mind, seeing as I _am_ a Gryffindor Alumna."

"Why would we mind?" Hermione asked Nezura. "In fact, ever since Sally-Anne Perks died, we've had at least _one_ extra bed in the girls' dormitory. If you'd rather sleep in a real bed, you're free to have it."

"I'd like the couch, thanks," Nezura told Hermione, and then let out her trademark girly-giggle. "It's for everyone's well-being, trust me; Don says I snore."

"Is it a chainsaw-snore, or just a faint little lady-snore?" Ron asked Nezura. "I'm curious."

"If you've ever heard a Muggle's boat motor when it's halfway in the water," Nezura told the three Gryffindors, "I sound like that."

Harry tried to picture that loud, sputtering noise, and how funny it would be to hear someone as tiny as Nezura snore like that.

"Then you must be a rather loud snorer," Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "My dad's like that!"

Nezura was still scowling, and Harry just seemed to know which sentence would be popping out of the woman's mouth next. He waited with dread.

"I _still _can't believe Don ditched me at the altar!"

Harry mumbled something about 'told you so' to Ron and Hermione, and then waited for Nezura to get it out of her system.

"I mean, he must be nutters to pass up someone like me! We've been dating on and off for _years_, and he's admitted that he loves me, but he keeps hesitating!"

"I think the hesitation means he really likes you," Hermione told the ex-professor. "If a guy can keep a straight face and tell you smoothly that he loves you, he's had plenty of practice."

"And it also might mean that he doesn't mean it," Ron added. "I tried that on a couple of girls before."

"Tomorrow's going to be sign-up day for next year's classes, seeing as it's the last full day you'll be here," Nezura told the three Gryffindors, as if they were listening in on her every word. "I also think that Dumbledore had something to say about the disbandment of the Hawkbane Program."

"You mean that wasn't just a rumor?" Hermione looked horrified. "Please, Professor Nezura, tell me this is a joke!"

"Oh, it's no joke," Nezura told Hermione. "You'll be working on your N.E.W.T.s next year, and I'm sure that the Hawkbane training you've had this year will come in handy."

She then began stuffing her blonde hair into a fuzzy nightcap and fluffed out a pillow to sleep on. She kicked all three students off the sofa and yanked a blanket from the armchair. "Good night."

"Night," Ron said, walking back to the boys' dormitories. "Harry, are you coming?"

"No," Harry said, looking at the door. "Not yet."

"And why not?" Hermione hissed. "Harry, you just saw Voldemort last night! Surely you don't think the school's _safe_ at this hour! Besides, Ron and I are tired; aren't you?"

"A little," Harry admitted, and then pulled a few Energy Fizzles out of his pocket, "but it's nothing my little friends here can't handle."

"Harry, you're horrible!" Hermione rolled her eyes and stomped off to the girls' dormitories. Ron walked up to the boys' dormitories, said nothing, but couldn't help but laugh.

Harry sneaked past Nezura and went out the door, keeping his wand, Invisibility Cloak, and Hawkbane Card with him. He had no idea why he was leaving the Gryffindor Tower, but once he was out, he felt a lot better. It was quiet out in the halls, practically deserted. At least, it was…until Harry made it to the staircase. There were two people talking down at the junction, and as he looked more carefully, he could tell it was two of the teachers; Snape and Fenrir. Curious as to how that conversation was going, Harry put on the Invisibility Cloak and sat on the steps, eavesdropping.

"On, come _on_! Every year, you and I go out there to pay our respects. What are you so afraid of, Severus?" Fenrir sounded rather peeved over something. "The Dark Lord?"

"Only a fool _wouldn't_ be afraid of him," Snape hissed at Fenrir, and then added, "but that's not why I am omitting my visit to Elysian this year. It's about Mortimer…now that we can see him once more on a regular basis, Lycaon, aren't the visits to his death site inappropriate? Do we _really_ need to force ourselves to remember that night?"

"I want those nightmares to stop, Severus," Fenrir growled, "and going out to Elysian is the only way I can keep my soul at peace, albeit only temporarily!"

"Losing Naomi and Cora has made you lose your edge, my friend."

"I'm thinking more clearly than ever before. We both need to go out there and pay our respects to the people we killed, although Morty is the only one we have any remorse for. Did he forgive us? Would you know?"

"He had no idea you were there."

"But, how? I was—"

"You killed Míguel, and Morty was already dead by the time you got out to the creek. Lycaon, if you only regret Morty's death, you're an innocent man. But if it's the only way to make you rest easy, then I'll accompany you."

"I think someone was listening in on us the whole time," Fenrir suddenly said, and turned to face the staircase. "Potter, I bet that's you."

Harry didn't budge, hoping Fenrir wouldn't pay him any attention, but it wasn't so; the werewolf grabbed the side of the cloak and yanked it off.

"What possessed you to snoop on us?"

"Pray tell, Potter," Snape didn't sound too thrilled. "Not that I need much imagination to assume that you simply wanted to spy on us for the thrill, or just because you wanted to know what we were talking about."

"It wasn't the thrill," Harry objected, glaring at Snape, "but I had to pass you on my way down—"

"Have you got your Hawkbane Card?" Fenrir blurted. To silence him, Harry pulled it out.

"Oh, okay; you may continue with your excuse, Potter."

"I had to pass you, and I caught a bit of the conversation, and decided it was too interesting to pass up, so yes, I was spying on you," Harry finished. "Is Elysian where Morty grew up?"

Neither Snape nor Fenrir answered him at first; both of which were gasping.

"How…how did you…Elysian?" Fenrir stumbled.

"I could infer," Harry told the werewolf, "but also, I had a dream about what happened the same night Voldemort—"

"_Don't use his name_!"

"—the same night _he_ killed my parents," Harry continued. "However, my dream was at a castle named Elysian, and I got to see everything about Morty's eighteenth birthday."

"_Everything_?" Snape repeated, looking rather pale.

"I woke up when it got to the point where you were dragging him into the woods," Harry glared at Snape, and then at Fenrir. "The two of you were responsible for the Skylarke Massacre!"

"Not entirely," Fenrir corrected Harry. "I only killed Míguel. It was Severus who killed Morty."

"I dragged him out into the woods to save his bloody life," Snape told Harry, "but he went back to Elysian to see what happened. It was a foolish move, in my opinion, and I couldn't stop five of my fellow Death Eaters from killing him slowly and painfully. I might not have dealt the final blow to him, but I blame myself for what happened, and what also happened when I brought him back."

It was clear Snape wasn't going to confess to Harry just how _bad_ his Necromancy skills were.

"Stella Piper Skylarke let them in," Fenrir added. "She got caught in the crossfire, and the rest is gore crow history."

"Balthazar, Morty's father, was one person I didn't mind killing," Snape admitted. "I saw the way he treated my younger friend, so I had no qualms about using the Death Curse on him." It was clear, however, that Snape had not wanted Harry to hear that conversation. "All of us who wear the Ring go out there on this night, the alleged 'Birth-Night of Circe', to not only visit Elysian and leave behind rosemary leaves, but to remind ourselves of the worse side to man's nature."

"_All_ the Nemesarists go?" Harry asked, looking down at his ring. Would he be accompanying Snape, Fenrir, and the others to Elysian?

"Morty's the only one who never goes," Fenrir told Harry, and then closed his eyes. "I don't see why he'd want to; he _lives_ in that place with nobody but the house elves to keep him company. There's no significance of this night to him, although he is the last of Circe's Descendants. Nat Biddle used to go also, but since she's doing nothing but babbling nonsense in St. Mungo's, it isn't really safe to take her."

"Aldebaran Black," Harry thought aloud. "Does he go?"

"Yes," Snape curtly told Harry. "Now, go back to sleep. Potter, you need not join in this tradition—"

"I'm going too," Harry pointed at his left middle-finger, where the ring was permanently stuck. "I want to see Elysian for myself."

"I don't see why you'd want to see it," Fenrir muttered, but then silenced himself, a faint smile on his roguish face. "That's where we not only betrayed Mortimer Skylarke by his death, but also where we betrayed Aurelius Fallowin by making him take the heat for his twin."

"Ah, Cassandra," Snape said suddenly, and Harry turned around to see that his friend had indeed arrived. "You decided you wanted to see Elysian too, I presume?"

"Yes," Cassandra held a palm-sized crystal in her hand, and her eyes seemed to be glowing with the green fire yet again. "I want to see where you performed the Kiss of a Friend."

"None of us kissed him," Fenrir snapped. "I think only Darius would've tried that!"

"I meant the Curse, Lycaon," Cassandra said, obviously used to referring to all Nemesarists by first name. "Does going back to Elysian ease the pain so you don't destroy yourself?"

"That's none of your business," Fenrir told Cassandra. "You're coming, and you'll figure things out once we're there. There's a certain item, according to Morty, that needs to be taken out of there before the Dark Lord gets it."

"Oh?" Snape looked interested. "He didn't inform _me_ of this."

"You were absent," Fenrir responded. "He wants us to take a certain _chair_ out of Elysian and bring it back here with us. Apparently, he's spoken to Dumbledore about this, and after a lot of convincing, Dumbledore agreed to keep it here at Hogwarts, under lock and key in a special room."

"Are you talking about the—"

"Yes," Fenrir cut Snape short, and then faced Cassandra. "Do you have your lantern? Light it up so we can be on our way; if you can get it to glow in a violet hue, every person drawn to our circle will be inclined to follow us to the Apparition Site."

'_How interesting_,' Harry couldn't help but think…he was going to see Morty's domain. However, he couldn't help but find the irony in naming that castle _Elysian_. _Aeaea_ was the name of the isle where Circe waited for her victims, and it would've been more appropriate than the name of the Greco-Roman version of the euphoric afterlife for good souls.

"Is there a reason why violet was the color chosen for Nemesarists?"

"Yes, Harry," Cassandra whispered to her friend. "You see, violet was a color not used by any of the four Houses, but that's only one of the two reasons. The other was because—"

"The Skylarke family used violet as the base color for their insignia," Harry finished. "Am I right? And cast in white is a simplified version of Medusa's face, since Morty's mother was from the Shadow family?"

Cassandra had begun to shake her lantern, making the fairy inside very unhappy. "How did you…"

"I had a dream last night," Harry told Cassandra as the lantern began to give off a violet light. "But I'm now more inclined to believe it was a flashback of some sort."

"That's not uncommon," Fenrir blurted, obviously eavesdropping on Harry's conversation!

"You were listening in on what we were saying?" Harry scowled. "That was a private conversation!"

"Yeah, well, look who's talking," retorted Fenrir. "Then again, Cassandra, how about you and Potter go back to bed? This might be better if Severus and I go up there alone."

"But aren't you worried that—"

"Potter," Snape snarled, pointing back at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Get back up there…_now_."

"Yes, _sir_," Harry hissed, stomping back up to the Fat Lady. "I need to get back in; _his royal highness_ demands it."

"Password?"

"Slytherin Sucks."

The Fat Lady let Harry through yet again. It wasn't all that easy getting past Nezura without waking her up, but Harry somehow managed. He walked to a large window and sat at the sill, and began to read The Slayer's Companion: A Guide to Vampiric Extermination by Pernicia Bellicose. It was a book he had checked out earlier in the day, as something Darius and Cassandra both agreed was—for the most part—very accurate.

He read the inside cover's little tribute to the author:

'**Professor Pernicia Bellicose, Order of Merlin Second-Class, is a world-renowned Vampire Slayer, and teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts at the Salem Academy of Sorcery, in Salem, Massachusetts, USA, and is a single mother. She has her Double Enchantress's Degrees in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Vampiric History, and lives with her son, Vance Bellicose, in downtown Salem. Her other published books are ****Why Necromancy Should be Banned**, **The Slayer's Companion Guide****, and ****Dangerous Doctor: The Truth Behind Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock****, and she has been writing music columns in **_**Witch Weekly**_** for the past eleven years. The book in question here, ****The Slayer's Companion: A Guide to Vampiric Extermination****, has won two awards; the **_**Best Slaying Manual of the 1990s**_** Award and the **_**Daily Prophet Bestseller **_**Award.**'

'_Interesting enough_,' Harry thought to himself as he looked at the other side of the inside cover:

'**They seem to be everywhere, don't they? Pop culture, Muggle Television, Romance Novels, the News, the Radio, and even in the world's best wizarding schools, Vampires seem to blend into society! While most people are under the deadly façade that these blood-drinking individuals aren't all that different from the rest of us, I have not been fooled into believing this lie. Nothing good can come out of this cultural influence vampires have over us humans, and I prove it thoroughly through the newest addition to my published works. Immerse yourself in my knowledge of the undead world, and you'll not only learn about **_**why**_** vampires are the way they are and how they became the 'people' we now know by stereotypes, but I'll also show you how to become—like me—a skilled vampire Slayer. Are you ready to Slay, then?**'

"No, and I never will be," Harry told himself angrily as he opened up the book to the first chapter. It was in a fancy (yet fairly easy to read) print, and Harry's blood boiled with anger at how Professor Bellicose spoke of vampires. However, he had eaten those Energy Fizzles and wouldn't need to sleep that night, so he decided he _would_ stay up all night and read this, even though he was getting about as angry with the author as he would tend to get with Snape on a regular Potions lesson.

"I just hope you keep teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts over in _the States _and never come over here," he grumbled…

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The morning was quite welcomed by Harry, who had managed to read the entire book without anything but a couple of toilet breaks to interfere. He had wanted to go to Elysian with Fenrir and Snape, to see Morty's domain for himself, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to go there unless Morty gave him permission.

"Hello, everyone!" Dumbledore beamed as the last student made it into the Great Hall. "I have gotten a chance to take a look at the '**Anecdotes of a Slytherin Sixth Year**' comics done by our own Cassandra Snape, and I must say I was impressed—as well as humored—by all the funny moments she chose to illustrate. Also, I was flattered that I was in a few of them, and thanks to her, I now realize that our Foreign Magic teacher has been picking fun at my name."

Ebonyste's ears drooped as Dumbledore continued, "I should've known better than to think calling me 'Dumb-Boulder' was the fault of his American accent. However, I find this funny, and not insulting, seeing as Ebonyste has always been a humor lover."

"I sure have," Ebonyste admitted merrily, his ears perking back up. "You're not mad, then, Headmaster Dumb-Boulder?" There was a chuckle from Dumbledore, who shook his head 'no.'

"I would like to thank Miss Snape for giving us a chance to look back at all the good things that happened this year despite all the tragedy that's occurred," Dumbledore continued. "So I would like to award fifty House points to Slytherin." There was applause from that table as Cassandra's art was commented on by the Headmaster. "I would also like her to come up here for a special something."

Cassandra's eyes widened, and Harry could yet again see that glowing green fire in there. It was clear she had no idea what it was, but she came up there without any questions asked, a look of confusion on her pale face.

"Sir?"

"This is a full-ride scholarship to Laveau University in the United States," Dumbledore grinned. "It's located five miles outside of New Orleans, and has one of the world's greatest Necromancy programs for magical colleges."

"You…?"

"It's from the entire staff," Dumbledore told Cassandra. "If you can handle the heat and humidity of Louisiana, then I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself in a couple of years when you go."

There was a smile on his face, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but he didn't have time; Cassandra embraced him first. However, once Cassandra realized that she was in front of all the other students, she let go of Dumbledore, gave a little "ahem", took the scholarship, said a "thank you", and walked back to the Slytherin table.

"Yes, yes;" Dumbledore was smiling. "That was well-deserved, Miss Snape!"

"I don't get it," Hermione whispered to Ron and Harry. Harry looked elsewhere, and saw that the Slytherins had taken Cassandra's scholarship envelope and were playing catch with it. "My grades are just as good as hers, maybe even a bit better in some subjects. Why wouldn't Dumbledore consider—"

"Cassandra's smart enough, but she'd need a scholarship to get into some place like that," Harry told Hermione. "Vampires hardly ever get scholarships, and after her little run-in with Azkaban, I'm not so sure Lydia would want to pay that much for an education when she could send Cassandra to that Albertus Magnus University…at least, that's what Cassandra told me."

"But the Von Dorians are wealthy," Ron said. "Didn't you see how big The Lair was, Harry? And all that land?"

"Did you see how dusty it was?" Harry replied. "Cassandra says they're middle-class, and just get a little extra money by renting off some of the property. Most of the money's in their land. And something tells me that going off to a Magical College somewhere costs just about as much—if not more—than going to a Muggle one."

"Right you are, Harry," Hermione admitted. "I was fishing around at Universities myself, actually. I think I might want to attend LéAvíans. Until Dumbledore told me about Laveau a week ago, I'd never heard of it."

"Really?" Serena asked, popping into the conversation with Ginny. Both were wearing matching hand-knitted hats.

"Looks like you've made yourself a friend out of our American companion, Ginny," Ron interrupted.

"Yeah, well…" was Ginny's response. "I did."

"But you hadn't heard of Laveau U?" Serena asked Hermione, looking shocked.

"No, I hadn't," Hermione admitted. "I mean, I know that it's named for Marie Laveau, but—"

"I guess it _is_ the best-kept secret in the South!" Serena laughed a bit and said, "I'm going there once I'm out of Hogwarts."

"Good for you," Harry said, and then thought, '_Now, please, go bother Ginny or someone else._'

"Um…did any of you notice that green sparkle in Cassandra's eyes as she went up there?" Serena pointed out.

"You saw it _too_?" Harry's eyes widened.

"Of course I did! Why else would I be asking?" Serena shrugged her shoulders and continued, "Do you know why her eyes do that?"

"No," Harry told her. "I never asked."

"I'm too scared to try," Ron admitted. "What if she hexes me?"

"Ron! This is _Cassandra_ we're talking about…" Hermione began. "Would she—"

"Probably," Ron interrupted. "This is _Cassandra_ we're talking about, remember?"

"Why don't you ask her, Harry?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind telling you. I mean, she went to Azkaban for you, so, maybe, she wouldn't mind…"

"Oh, I don't know." Harry couldn't help but think Cassandra left out telling him this for a reason. '_That didn't stop me from stealing the Macedethe mirror earlier this year and finding out what it could do,_' he thought grimly. "Maybe she has a reason to keep it secret. Besides, I don't want her to get mad at me for—"

"But we're all so curious!" Ron blurted. "Aren't you?"

"Of course I am! But I don't want to hurt her feelings, in case it's something she doesn't feel like sharing," Harry admitted. He pointed at Serena and said, "Why don't _you_ ask her?"

"_Hell,_ no!" Serena yelped, looking as if someone had shot her with an arrow or something just as damaging. "I don't want to get within a ten-foot radius of that girl! Sure, her comics are funny and I like them, but that doesn't change the fact that she's a creepy Slytherin!"

"Watch it," Blaise hissed, sitting down at the Gryffindor table. He had a small pamphlet with him about Exorcism II and why it would be a good idea to take it next year. "You're talking about my friend, Voltaire."

"Do you know why her eyes glow like that sometimes?" Serena asked Blaise. All Blaise could do was shrug and tell her he had no idea why Cassandra's eyes did that. "Oh, you're _such_ a great help, Zabini!" It was clear Serena was getting annoyed with everyone _not_ knowing about Cassandra's "condition." "Do you think Rhianna Apathy would know?"

"No," Blaise said flatly. "If she knew it, I'd have known it. And don't drag her into this!"

"Why? Is she your _girlfriend_, Zabini?" Serena jeered. Blaise turned pink in the face and walked back to the Slytherin table without another word. "Slytherins…ugh…"

"They're not _all_ bad," Hermione pointed out. "Just most of them." Her eyes widened, and then she got a huge grin on her face. "I've got it!"

"Pardon? You've got…_what_?" Ron was confused by this. It was easy to tell by the slightly vacant expression on his face.

"The other Slytherins! Maybe one of them knows!" Hermione chirped happily. "We all know Malfoy's a snoop, so do you think he'd know the answer to our question?"

"No," Harry gave his honest opinion. "If Blaise and Rhianna don't know why Cassandra's eyes do that, then I'm sure Malfoy doesn't know either. And even if he _did_ know, do you think he'd tell _us_?"

"Guess not, mate," Ron grumbled. "I really want to know the answer to this one, though. I just don't think confronting Cassandra about it would be a good idea."

"I'm seconding that," Harry agreed.

"But who would know? Is there a student we can think of who seems to know everything about everyone?" Serena began to brainstorm, and then added, "What about the Lisa Turpin Network? Do you think Lisa—"

"Lisa died from the Doppelganger, remember?" Ron cut the American girl short and sighed. "But I bet she wouldn't know what it was, either."

"Lisa gave off the impression that she knew more than she really did," a passive voice said, and then Luna Lovegood sat down at the table also. "Hello."

"Hi, Luna!" Harry grinned. "How are you doing?"

"I am alright, actually," Luna began, "but I get the feeling that a meeper is running amok in the Great Hall today. I just finished my last O.W.L. yesterday…"

It then dawned on Harry that Luna would be a great person to convince to ask Cassandra about the lights in her eyes. "Luna, I was wondering…do you know why Cassandra's eyes glow green at certain times?"

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack must have bitten her when she was a child," was Luna's response.

"You don't know that for a fact, do you?" Ron asked, obviously poking a little fun at his friend.

"It was in the Quibbler, Ronald." Luna kept the same tone in her voice, as if she were still halfway asleep. "Of course, it's a fact."

"Would you mind asking Cassandra?" Hermione asked the Ravenclaw girl.

"No," Luna got up from her seat and began walking slowly over toward the Slytherin table, where Cassandra was still adding something to her green book. "Hello."

"Hi, Luna." Cassandra looked up from her book and smiled a bit. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, but I'm trying to hunt down the meeper," Luna responded. "There's one loose in the Great Hall, you know." Cassandra raised her black eyebrows and smiled a bit on the right side of her mouth. "Ronald, Hermione, and Harry wanted me to find out why your eyes seem to light up sometimes."

"Ugh!" Ron grumbled at the Gryffindor table, burying his face in his hands. "Harry, she just told Cassandra that we're involved! What if she decides to hex us?"

"Be _quiet_!" Hermione hissed.

"They want to find out, do they?" Cassandra repeated the information, and raised her eyebrows even higher. As Luna nodded, Cassandra began to look a bit confused. "Then why didn't they come over here?"

"They asked me to come instead." Luna was being honest.

"I bet they thought I'd hex them…" Cassandra grumbled, and then began to laugh. "They should know by now that I reserve that only for the people who try to ruin my day. The reason my eyes are doing that is—"

Harry couldn't hear the rest; he wasn't sure whether it was the loud noise at the Gryffindor table muffling the conversation at the Slytherin table, or if it was simply because Cassandra had begun to whisper. However, after a few seconds, Cassandra patted Luna on the shoulder and smirked. "Well, now you know."

"Okay," Luna replied. "Thank you." As she began walking past the Slytherin table, she stopped around Theodore Nott, Malfoy, and the rest of the putrid posse. "One of you should claim that fart; it's dying to be recognized."

And with those parting words, she made it back to the Gryffindor table. "I know the answer."

"Great!" Harry grinned. "Can you tell us?"

"Don't repeat it."

"Oh, come on, Luna! Who could we tell?" Ron asked.

"Let's see…Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan—"

"We won't tell unless Cassandra says it's okay," Hermione told Luna. "Now, can you tell us what she said?"

"Sure." Luna looked around the room, commented about the light fixtures, and then said, "She's turning into a lamia."

"That's it?" Ron asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "Why couldn't it be something _dangerous_, like her being hypnotized by You-Know-Who into extracting information from Harry? That'd be more interesting!"

"Lamiae are dangerous," Luna told Ron. "They can turn you into gym socks."

"No, they can't!" Hermione hissed.

"Yes, they can," Luna affirmed.

"No, Luna, they can't do that!" Hermione argued.

"There's proof that they can," Luna backed herself up and showed Hermione an article in the Quibbler. "See?"

"Ugh…"

hphphphphphphphp

After breakfast came to a close, everyone went into the Second Floor Auditorium, where Stanzi would hold the Dueling Club meetings.

"Hi, everyone!" Stanzi chirped. "I have a rather brief announcement to make concerning what will be going on after you sign up for your courses. Today, we will be having an End-of-Course Ball until Midnight in the Great Hall, on the balconies, and outdoors. All parts of the castle will be decorated for this wonderful occasion, and everyone is expected to dress in very formal attire, as if this were a soiree. But, I'll talk more about that once you sign up for your courses, clubs, and write out your interests for a _new_ program we'll be starting with the older students."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, raising her hand. "Professor Talus, do you know?"

"Of _course_ I do!" Stanzi was twirling her wand around in her hand in a circular motion. "Those of you who have proven yourselves to be the best students Hogwarts has to offer will be cast as role models for the First Years for the upcoming semester. These children would probably like having an older student to hang out with, so each of you will be taking a multiple choice test and over the summer. The Headmaster, the Heads of Houses, the Head of the now-extinct Hawkbane Society, and yours truly—as the Director of Extracurricular Activities—will be matching you up to a younger student, who probably would benefit from your attention. You'll get a letter in the mail, giving you the name, address, photograph, and a brief biography of your Underclassman; we all hope you'll get a chance to meet him or her before school starts, and try your best to at least meet up in Diagon Alley! And _yes_, you must sit with your little friend on board the Hogwarts Express!"

"Whose crackpot idea was that?" Snape bellowed.

"It was the Headmaster's idea, thank you very much!" Stanzi bellowed back. "I respect the man, alright? So should you!" She then smiled at her audience and continued. "Okay…well…you'll see that each and every one of you has a small booklet out in front of you. Rising Third-through-Seventh Years are to fill these out. Rising Second Years may go back to their House towers to get ready for the celebration."

There was the sound of laughter as the First Years ran out of the auditorium and back to the four Common Rooms. "Since the Headmaster nor Professor McGonagall is in here to take lead, and because I'm presently at the podium, I will take this moment to say you may begin filling out your schedule requests and questionnaires."

Harry opened up his booklet and saw a long list of courses he could take as a Seventh Year:

**Classes**:

**N.E.W.T. Level Transfiguration** (_McGonagall_) (Prerequisite: 'E' average in previous Transfiguration Courses)

**N.E.W.T. Level Potions** (_Snape_) (Prerequisite: 'O' average in previous Potions Courses as well as O.W.L. scoring)

**N.E.W.T. Level Charms** (_Flitwick_) (Prerequisite: 'E' in previous Charms Courses)

**N.E.W.T. Level Astronomy** (_Sinistra_) (Prerequisite: 'A' average in most-recent Astronomy Course)

**N.E.W.T. Level Herbology** (_Sprout_) (Prerequisite: 'E' average in most-recent Herbology Course)

**N.E.W.T. Level Defense Against the Dark Arts **(_Unknown_) (Prerequisite: 'A' average in previous Defense Against the Dark Arts Courses)

**Advanced Alchemy I **(_Quirrell_) (Prerequisite: 'O' average in most recent Potions and Herbology classes)

**Advanced Alchemy II **(_Quirrell_) (Prerequisite: Passing Advanced Alchemy I with at least an 'E' average)

**Advanced Alchemy III **(_Quirrell_) (Prerequisite: Passing Advanced Alchemy II with at least an 'E' average)

**Necromancy **(_Ahsimal_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Advanced Necromancy I, II, III, and IV **(_Ahsimal_) (Prerequisite: Interview with Necromancy Professor or Recommendation)

**Curses & Rootwork **(_Skylarke_) (Prerequisite: good grades in Charms and Potions)

**Advanced Curses & Rootwork**(_Skylarke_) (Prerequisite: Passing Curses & Rootwork with at least an 'E' average, or Recommendation)

**Exorcism **(_Fallowin_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Hypnosis** (_Unknown_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Clairvoyancy **(_Furrier_) (Prerequisite: One Divination Credit)

**Divination **(_Firenze & Trelawney_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Advanced Clairvoyancy **(_Furrier_) (Prerequisite: Recommendation)

**N.E.W.T. Level Foreign Magic **(_Ebonyste_) (Prerequisite: at least one Foreign Magic credit)

**Numerology **(_Vector_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Muggle Studies **(_Unknown_) (Prerequisite: None)

**Band & Orchestra **(_Twitchett_) (Prerequisite: halfway-know how to play a specific instrument and read music)

**Care of Magical Creatures **(_Hagrid_) (Prerequisite: love animals)

**Clubs**:

**Dueling with Mme. Talus-Quirrell—**_Experience the wonderful world of Dueling with an adventurous instructor. Learn how to defend yourself in one-on-one and group combat, and even how to think outside the box. Trips will be taken throughout the year to Dueling Arenas and special events._

**Necromancer's Guild with Professor Ahsimal—**_If you have considered becoming a Necromancer, or would just like to learn a bit more about the subject outside the classroom, this club is right for you! However, you must have a tolerance for vampires to apply._

**Special Events Committee with Professor Ebonyste—**_The spectacular festivities at Hogwarts are always organized by this committee. Dances, victory parties, end-of-the-year celebrations, and Christmas festivities are tended to by this club. Joining looks good on any University résumé._

**Dark Arts Awareness with Professor Skylarke—**_Admit it; there is no way you can escape the Dark Arts these days. If any student is interested in learning a few self-defense tactics, and maybe even a little bit of the Dark Arts for educational purposes, anyone will be welcomed._

**Book Club with Mme.** **Pince—**_All this club does every year is gather around in the library to discuss good reading material, great authors, and share student-written literature. Love notes don't count, nor do death threats._

**Special Friends with Professor Ebonyste—**_This club is for the big of heart, and the brave in spirit. Club members will anonymously do fun and "helpful" activities for other people, whether they know it or not. It's a lot of fun, so sign up today! Details about this club cannot be published for legal reasons._

Once he was done filling-in which classes and clubs he would even _consider_ joining, Harry turned to the back part to find the Students' Questionnaire:

**Which House are you in?**

_**a. Gryffindor (Brave and True of Heart)**_

_**b. Ravenclaw (Wise and Quick of Wit)**_

_**c. Hufflepuff (Just and Loyal in Nature)**_

_**d. Slytherin (Crafty and Clever in Spirit)**_

**What is your favorite subject category?**

_**a. Defensive Arts**_

_**b. Academic Arts**_

_**c. Healing Arts**_

_**d. Dark Arts**_

**How do you tolerate Werewolves and the like?**

_**a. Rather well, and sometimes befriend them**_

_**b. At least acknowledge their presence**_

_**c. Pretend they're not there**_

_**d. Consider them inferior beings**_

**What is your most common class average?**

_**a. Outstanding-Exceeds Expectations (Passing with flying colors)**_

_**b. Exceeds Expectations-Acceptable (Passing with a little extra room)**_

_**c. Acceptable-Poor (Barely Passing)**_

_**d Poor-Dreadful**_

_**e. Troll (Not Passing)**_

**Do you enjoy Quidditch? If so, do you play (or wish to play) on a school team?**

_**a. I enjoy Quidditch, and I'm part of my House's Quidditch team (tell us which role:)**_

_**b. I enjoy Quidditch, but I'm unfortunately not part of my House's team**_

_**c. I like Quidditch, but I'm not going to consider joining the House team**_

_**d. I hate Quidditch and can't stand the sport**_

**Do you have any problem with Muggle-born students?**

_**a. Not at all! There's nothing wrong with Muggle-born students!**_

_**b. I am a Muggle-born student, and there's no problem with me being such**_

_**c. Muggle-born students…never noticed them**_

_**d. Mudbloods should go home and leave Hogwarts to Pureblooded Witches and Wizards**_

**Do you have a favorite author?**

_**a. Pernicia Bellicose (**_**The Slayer's Companion**__

_**b. Gilderoy Lockhart (**_**Magical Me**__

_**c. Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock (**_**1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis**__

_**d. My favorite author was not mentioned (tell us:)**_

**What is your opinion of the Dark Arts?**

_**a. They should be banned from the schools, but people should learn how to defend themselves**_

_**b. They should be taught alongside Defense Against the Dark Arts for further understanding**_

_**c. The Dark Arts are just that…Dark**_

_**d. If you can't beat them, join them**_

**Who do you live with when not at Hogwarts?**

_**a. My parent(s)**_

_**b. My guardian(s)**_

_**c. My older friend(s)**_

_**d. Differs from year to year**_

**Which type of student do you admire the most?**

_**a. The brave and adventurous**_

_**b. The smart and classy**_

_**c. The sweet and honest**_

_**d. The sneaky and fun-loving**_

**How do you most like to spend your free time?**

_**a. Among friends; snacking, goofing off, doing nothing in particular**_

_**b. Discussion; getting together with a group of people to accomplish something**_

_**c. Practical Jokes; no further explanation**_

_**d. By myself; studying, writing, meditating, reading, playing Quidditch…just isolating myself**_

**What type of younger student would you most like to be a friend to? Keep in mind that these are all just stereotypes, and your younger friend may differ.**

_**a. Girl, tomboyish in nature, fun-loving, adventurous, sense of humor **_

_**b. Girl, feminine in nature, people-person, maybe a little shy, can be funny**_

_**c. Boy, a bit girly in nature, outgoing, friendly, can take a joke**_

_**d. Boy, a strong masculine nature, rough, large ego, thinks he's funny**_

Harry put down his quill and looked at Ron and Hermione. "Are you done yet?"

"Er…" Ron continued to scribble. "Just a moment."

"You didn't sign up for too many classes, did you, Hermione?" Harry inquired. "Don't overwork yourself!"

"Speak for yourself!" Hermione laughed, and ruffled Harry's hair a bit. "I saw how many you signed up for!"

"What did you put down for the questionnaire?" a younger voice asked. Harry turned around and rolled his eyes; it was Cecil Quirrell. "You know I'll be a First Year next semester!"

"We know," Ron repeated. "Go away."

"Oh, _fine_!" Cecil squawked, and went toward where his father was sitting.

"I hope I don't get Cecil Quirrell as my Underclassman!" Harry grumbled with his friends. "But watch it; I'll get him."

"Don't think like that," Hermione piped. "You told us what Celeste Fenrir had to say about you looking after her niece, Marpessa. Isn't Marpessa the only remaining child of _Professor_ Fenrir? For all we know, you might get _her_ as your Underclassman!"

"Or Teiresias," Ron pointed out. "You might get that spooky little kid after all."

"Teiresias wouldn't be that bad," Harry admitted, "and I don't think Marpessa would be too much trouble, either."

"Are you three finished with your work?" Stanzi asked as she made her way around the room. She'd been picking up completed booklets and dismissing students from the auditorium for about twenty minutes.

"Yes, Professor Talus," Hermione told the woman, and handed over her work. Ron and Harry did the same.

"Alright, then," Stanzi grinned as she looked inside and noticed all three of the students had signed up for Dueling Club. "You may all return to the Gryffindor Tower to get ready for tonight's festivities."

There was a smile on her face made even more prominent from her black lipstick. "The Special Events Committee may decorate and plan the parties, but _this_ one was _my_ idea. Enjoy!" She then hopped up to collect Malfoy's booklet. "Draco, I see you finished rather quickly. Are you sure your schedule is how you like it?"

"I'm sure, Stanzi," said Malfoy. "My questionnaire's done, too." He turned to face Harry. "Er…did you sign up for Advanced Curses & Rootwork?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "I did."

"Damn," Malfoy muttered rather loudly as he got up. "I thought you wouldn't want to take that course."

Harry brought himself to his feet and met Ron and Hermione at the door. "Well, are you two ready to leave?"

"Leave Hogwarts, or leave for the party?" Ron questioned.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Does it matter?"

"Not really," Hermione admitted, beginning her ascent up the staircase. The Fat Lady was there at the Gryffindor entrance, and—of course—requested the password. "Slytherin Sucks."

"Come on in!" the Fat Lady said in a sing-song voice.

"Well, the Fat Lady sang," Harry sniggered. "I guess that means it's all over."

"What?" Ron was confused.

"Haven't you heard the expression '_It's not over until the Fat Lady sings_' before?"

"No."

"You know what, Ron?"

"What?"

"You're hopeless."

hphphphphphphphphp

After a couple of hours of getting ready and hanging out with his fellow Gryffindors in the Common Room, Harry had almost decided to go down to the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had already gone, but Neville looked like he wanted to talk to Harry about something.

"Something wrong, Neville?" Harry asked.

"Yeah…" Neville admitted sadly. "It's Cassandra."

"What about her?" Harry wasn't sure what Neville meant by that. "Is she sick?"

"No, it's not that…" Neville let out a very heavy sigh, and looked like he was about to cry. "Gran made me break up with her. There was an article about Lydia Von Dorian in the Daily Prophet—I think it was about her becoming the Clan Matriarch—and the reporter, Leah Crowe, let it slip that Lydia was an 'alleged' Death Eater…and I told my Gran that Cassandra was the daughter of Lydia weeks ago." He looked very upset about the whole ordeal. "I really like her, Harry; but my Gran…she doesn't like vampires, Slytherins, or any children of Death Eaters. And I'd met Lydia before; you'd _never _guess she was in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by the way she acted!"

"That's very unfortunate," Harry tried to comfort Neville.

"Harry, it's awful not being able to date her; I like her so much!" Neville's eyes had turned to water. "She actually made me feel good about myself, and she trusted me…it was great…"

"It's a break-up, not a funeral," Harry told his friend, and gave Neville a quick pat on the back. "You guys can get back together once you move out, right?"

"If she still wants to be a couple…" Neville sounded quite dejected. "I mean, I think she likes you, too…after all, she murdered a teacher to save your life…"

Harry thought about that for a moment, and pictured Cassandra in his mind. She was an interesting person, and always seemed to know quite a bit about the things most people would fear most. That air she had to her was so different from anyone else, as if she were still that suffering little girl who had almost died in the Forbidden Forest, or had the last of her blood drained out of her by the age of three. Those eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—seemed to be more than cold with hate; they were the eyes of someone who had been hurt before and expected even those close to her to somehow go astray. It was clear she was a relative of Snape's by her beaky nose and black hair, but she had really begun to look a lot more like her mother over the course of the year…her face beginning to fit that nose a bit better. There were several waif-like features on Cassandra Snape, but Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of regret for not befriending her sooner. And yes, she _had_ saved his life.

"Neville, I'm sure she'd do the same for you."

"Oh, I don't know…" Neville was looking down at the floor. "She was pretty upset when I told her I had to break up with her."

"It's understandable if she—"

"I don't even know if she'll let me dance with her," Neville interrupted. "She was _very_ upset."

"Does she understand that it was your Gran—and not you—who wanted to end the relationship?" Harry inquired. Neville nodded.

"Since when did you become a relationships expert?" Neville suddenly asked. "As I recall, your only girlfriend was Cho Chang, and that backfired on your first date."

"Yeah, it did," Harry confessed, "but Ron and Hermione have had good luck with their pursuits, right? Besides, I know a lot about how Cassandra's mind works…this has more to do with her than with your relationship."

"Don't steal her from me, Harry," Neville pleaded.

Harry almost wanted to laugh; the idea was quite ridiculous! Him? With _Cassandra_? However, in respect for Neville, he kept a serious face and forced himself not to let the laughter break loose, but failed.

"You don't have to worry about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Why would I steal Cassandra?"

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Neville was beginning to sound defensive. "She's not good enough for you?"

"That's not what I was—"

"You seem to have pretty high expectations, and here you are, with only one _failed_ attempt at having a girlfriend! Sure do think yourself all high and mighty, don't you?"

"Neville, what I meant was—"

"Cassandra's _gorgeous_, Harry!" Neville spat. "And I'm surprised that I was the first person to ever ask her out! Are you _blind_? Just _look_ at her next time…look closely!" His face had gone scarlet. And with those words, Neville stormed out of the Gryffindor Tower to head to the End-of-the-Year Ball.

Harry simply stood there for a moment, shocked by how Neville had behaved. He hadn't meant to make a snide remark about his friend, and Neville had taken _everything_ the wrong way. It angered him a bit that Neville would think that he'd consider Cassandra in that way. Wasn't Cassandra his friend _too_? '_Cassandra's gorgeous, Harry; are you blind? Just look at her… _' He thought about what Neville had said, and still couldn't see it when he pictured Cassandra.

"Hi, Harry!" a voice called out.

Looking down to a staircase junction close to the Slytherin entrance, Harry could see a trio of friends he knew; Blaise Zabini, Rhianna Apathy, and Cassandra Snape.

"Hi!" he called back. "Looks like you three are ready too!"

"I like your green dress-robe," Rhianna called back.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I like your dress; what do you call that shade of red?"

"Vermilion," was Rhianna's answer. "It's almost an orange-red, but I like it; it reminds me of fire."

"Fire…" Harry thought about Voldemort and Dark Magic Circle, and shivered. "Yeah…"

"What do you think of _my_ robe, Harry?" Blaise asked.

Harry got a good look at it; Blaise's velvet robe was a gold color, had large buttons down the front, and had black lace trimmings at the neck and at the ends of the sleeves; it looked like a Renaissance-style robe.

"A little old-fashioned, isn't it?"

"Not really," Blaise responded. "This is supposed to be the latest fashion." He grinned widely and said, "I made it myself."

"When?" Harry asked…not sure when Blaise had the time to do something like that.

"Honestly, Harry; do you see me wandering around the castle every weekend?" was Blaise's reply. "It was just another sewing project…and it's very easy when you've got a wand to help you out!"

"Okay," said Harry, "that's cool."

"I'm so glad that the gorgonix and doppelganger were destroyed," Rhianna admitted, and then put her elbow on Blaise's shoulder in a rather casual way. "It's good that Dumbledore thinks Hogwarts is safe enough for us to have a castle-wide party like this. How much do you want to bet the First Years think we do this _every_ year?"

"Bet's on," Cassandra spoke up and handed Rhianna a Sickle coin. "One Sickle that they think it."

"One Sickle that they don't," responded Blaise. "Harry, what's your bet?"

"I'm not betting," Harry answered, approaching the Slytherin trio. "Cassandra, you look nice." And then he looked closer, as Neville had told him to do, and realized it was true. Expecting to see her in black, he had been a bit surprised to see her in a violet dress, but it _did_ have black lace and ribbons on it.

"Thanks," Cassandra said, but Harry could tell she wasn't feeling very happy that night.

"Is something wrong?" Blaise and Harry asked at the same time.

"Neville ditched her," Rhianna spoke up for Cassandra. "Oh, look! There's the Great Hall, and they have the punch bowl up there…I'm going to see if Ebonyste put a water sprite in there!" She pulled out her wand and rushed over there.

"It's true," Cassandra told Harry and Blaise as they entered the Great Hall. "He said his Gran wanted him to stop dating me, and so we ended it in the most mature manner possible; I held in my feelings until I was alone."

She kept looking at her Nemesarist's Ring and sighed just about as heavily as Neville had back in the Gryffindor Common Room. "Harry, Blaise, I had really enjoyed having him around."

"It's not your fault that his grandmother can't appreciate you for who you are," Blaise folded his arms (pausing to fluff the lace a little bit). "She's pinning your mother's faults onto you."

"That's immature," Harry assured Cassandra. "You're the one who's acting like an adult."

"I almost always have to act like one," Cassandra admitted. "Or, at least, that's how it feels. I'm in Nemesarium, and I must work hard to understand every concept that appeals to me."

"Don't overwork yourself," Harry told his friend. "I don't think anyone else at Hogwarts knows as much about the Dark Arts as you do, besides some of the teachers."

"Like Morty?"

"Yeah, I was just about to point him out."

Harry looked around the Great Hall; the decorations were festive, and rather appealing. All the students and teachers were dressed up, but enjoying themselves nonetheless. He could see Darius was trying to get Fenrir to dance with him, but was failing at his attempts. Morty, however, had begun to dance with any person who asked him to do so; surprisingly, a lot of female students were doing so. It also seemed that Nezura and Ebonyste had forgiven each other for their ruined wedding, seeing as they were dancing together for every song that came by, and drinking out of the same punch cup. Even Blaise and Rhianna had danced a couple of times before too long.

"Er…Cassandra?"

"Yes?" Cassandra began to chew on a pretzel stick. "Is something the matter? You look a bit pale."

"Would you like to dance?" Harry asked his friend, surprised he'd actually thought about that, moreover spoke it aloud.

"Maybe later," Cassandra told Harry. "I'm not one for dancing. Thanks for the offer, though."

"You're not going to believe what Neville told me in the Common Room," Harry whispered in her ear.

"Eh?"

"He asked me not to steal you away."

At first, Harry expected Cassandra to blush and look down yet again. Instead, she had the same reaction to the comment that _he_ had up there; she laughed, but not quite as loudly.

"Funny, eh? You and I are just friends."

"I don't think it'll ever go any further than that," Cassandra admitted. "If it did, that'd be fine, but I don't think you and I would be a good couple."

"I don't see it happening, either," Harry agreed. "Well, I'll take you up on the dance offer later, alright?"

"Alright."

Cassandra gave Harry a smug look, obviously feeling better, and told him, "Tell Ron and Hermione I said hi; I don't see them in here."

Harry walked out of Cassandra's way and went up to Darius, who was still unsuccessfully trying to get a guy to dance with him. "Having trouble?"

"You have no idea…" Darius rolled his eyes and began to chuckle. "It's impossible. Harry, would you…?"

"No." Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks anyway."

"I knew it," Darius muttered, and then offered Harry a drink. "Splipberry nectar?"

"Thanks!" Harry took the nectar gladly and drank the tangy liquid, savoring the taste. "Hey, this is pretty good."

"Hard to believe you turned one of these down before, eh?" Darius chuckled a bit and then added, "I'll see you later this summer, Harry, if things work out. For now, how about spending time with your other friends?"

"What's wrong with talking to _you_?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, nothing's wrong with talking to me!" Darius told Harry, leaning rather close to him so he could whisper, "You see, lad; there's a certain something that Morty wanted us Nemesarists to take out of Elysian last night, and we're going to have to leave the Great Hall to set it up in a secret location in a few minutes." He then grinned and said, "Besides, a nice fellow such as yourself should be dancing and hanging out with his classmates at an event like this. Don't you agree?"

"Oh, okay; I'll see you later, Darius," Harry told the vampire, and then headed over toward Blaise and Rhianna. "Having fun?"

"Yeah!" Rhianna admitted. "Blaise dances well, but Marcus danced better." She shrugged her shoulders as Blaise looked offended. "Sorry, mate; it's true. The boy really knew how to dance!"

"And I don't?" Blaise sounded dejected.

"It's not that!" Rhianna was laughing. "It's just that you get nervous when you dance. Marcus was calm."

"I don't think you'll be dancing with Marcus anytime soon," said Blaise, "or, at least, I hope you don't." A smile curled up on his face as he added, "I'd hate it if you died; it's not fun."

"Rhianna, may I have this next dance?" Harry asked the Slytherin girl. Rhianna simply nodded and danced nicely with him for a rather pretty song by Phorcys Lancerie called _Love Comes When It Rains_:

_For the love of the angels_

_For the love of the day_

_Sweet entrapment you give me_

_In wonderful ways_

_You keep me close to you_

_While I hold back my tears_

_Oh! Losing you, darling,_

_Is my deepest fear_

_While the rain keeps on pouring_

_I'm holding you tight_

_As it storms on, I tell you_

_It'll be alright_

_It'll be alright_

_Not a fear in sight_

_Keep me close by you_

_Throughout the night!_

_As the years pass us by_

_My love never wanes_

_And now I realize_

_Love comes when it rains_

"That was beautiful!" cheered Celia as Harry and Rhianna ended their dance. "Harry, can I dance with you next?"

"Er…Celia…I've got to find Ron and Hermione," Harry admitted. "Will Josh dance with you?"

"I _already_ danced with him, genius!" Celia didn't sound too enthused by that prospect, either. She grabbed Harry's wrists and dragged him into the center of the room for Juno Lethe's _The One Thing About Us_ song. Harry had enjoyed the song the first time he heard it, but when Quirrell shifted into Lethe in front of everyone to do a _live_ performance—a replica of ManiFest's splendor back in the autumn—it didn't seem to be quite as pretty. The tones were the same, but it was clear Lethe's violin hadn't been touched in quite a while and needed a good tuning. Dancing with Rhianna had been much more easy, especially because Celia was a tad aggressive and fast with her moves. Harry hadn't taken a single course in dancing, so the Seventh Year was too much for him. As Celia left to go dance again with Josh, Harry couldn't have been any more relieved.

"Well, _that_ was fun!" Celia called out to her fellow Seventh Years.

"Bravo!" Hermione chirped as she came within Harry's vision range. "Harry, you looked _brilliant_ out there!"

"Did I?" Harry shrugged his shoulders and told Hermione, "Celia was leading. I thought it was obvious."

"Not really, mate," said Ron, coming seemingly out of nowhere. "I've danced with Lavender, Hermione, _and_ Parvati so far. What took you so long to get down here?"

"Neville," said Harry. "He's pretty upset at the moment because his grandmother made him ditch Cassandra."

"Poor Neville!" Hermione gasped and went over to the still ornery Gryffindor boy. "Neville, are you alright?"

Harry didn't want to listen to that conversation, so he told Ron all about what Neville had said about Cassandra. However, Ron didn't laugh about it as he and Cassandra had done; he just nodded. "Don't you find that funny?"

"I can see why he'd say that," admitted Ron. "Harry, it's not like Cassandra's an ugly cow like Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bullstrode. She's decent-looking. I'll give it to you; she's not gorgeous…but she isn't ugly. Besides, I can also see that you two would make an interesting couple."

"I don't think so," Harry told Ron flatly. "I don't see it happening, nor does Cassandra. We discussed that earlier."

"Think about it, mate!" Ron seemed to be taking this like a joke _now_. "If you two were dating, I'm sure Snape would lighten up on you and you'd know more black magic than You-Know-Who! She'd make you the darkest wizard of the approaching 21st Century…or at least show you how to become that!"

"Can it," Harry snapped. "Cassandra wouldn't—"

"Cassandra wouldn't…what?" Ginny walked up to Ron and Harry, carrying the ends of a fluffy blue dress. "Are you guys talking about her? Shame! She just lost a boyfriend, and now you two are—"

"Mind your own business, Ginny," Ron hissed.

"She can hear this," Harry snapped at Ron. "Ginny, Ron seems to think that Cassandra and I would make an interesting couple."

"Interesting? Yes…but lasting? I don't think so." Ginny had given her opinion concerning the topic. "I think Skylarke and Ahsimal would have a better chance of getting together and staying that way than you and Cassandra, Harry."

Everyone got a chuckle out of that one; the thought of Darius and Morty becoming a couple was very outrageous. Ginny fluffed the bottom of her flowing skirt and asked Ron, "Do you think I'd have a chance if I asked Professor Skylarke to dance with me? He's pretty good-looking, now that he's dressing more normally."

Harry wanted to see that; he took a glance at Morty, and realized the only thing the Curses & Rootwork teacher had done differently was wear a dressier shirt than a turtleneck sweater and show off a little bit of his chest. However, it was obviously working because several girls were talking to him.

"You like his class?" Harry asked Ginny.

"Yeah!" Ginny confessed wholeheartedly. "He's been very nice to all his students, even the ones who aren't doing so well in his class! And he's good at speaking to people on a personal level. Sure, I'll admit I didn't like him for the first few months, but he's kind of grown on me."

"Let me guess, you signed up for Advanced Curses & Rootwork next year?" Ron rolled his eyes.

"Of _course_!" Ginny was beaming. "I also signed up for the Dark Arts Awareness Club."

"I did too," Harry told her.

"Oh, look at Malfoy over there!" Ginny rolled her eyes. Ron and Harry turned around to see Malfoy was dancing with a sexy young woman they'd never seen before. "Who's that? I don't think she's a Hogwarts student."

"I've never seen her before!" Ron was staring at the gorgeous blonde woman Malfoy was caressing in a slow dance. "She's too old to be a student here, but too young to be a teacher! Who _is_ that?"

"Let's find out." Harry walked over there and tapped Malfoy's shoulder. "Hi, Malfoy."

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said in a slightly-defensive tone. "What do you want? A kiss?"

"No!" Harry and Malfoy both had to laugh at that one, seeing as both were the butt of the joke. "Ron and I just wanted to know who your friend here is."

"This is Sadis," Malfoy told the two Gryffindors. "I found her in the Forbidden Forest. She's a wild nymph I tamed."

"Hagrid showed you how to do that?" Ron looked impressed with the good work Malfoy had done.

"No, he didn't." Malfoy looked rather annoyed with the very mentioning of Hagrid. "Professor Fallowin showed me when I offered to clean up his classroom for a week. However, that Care of Magical Creatures lesson on nymphs helped me catch her. I fished her out with an old candy cane." He paused to give Sadis a lemon drop. "All I've got to do is keep feeding her candy, and she'll party like there's no tomorrow."

"I should've tried that," Ron muttered to himself, although Malfoy and Harry both could hear him. At that moment, another slow dance song emerged…this one by the Weird Sisters. Harry and Ron left Malfoy to dance around with his nymph 'friend' and decided to hang out around the refreshments table.

"Oh, hello, Professor Skylarke!"

"Sssssh!" Morty whispered, on his knees. He was behind the table. "Don't tell anyone I'm here. Alright, Ron?"

"Why not?"

"I'm tired of dancing with my students," Morty confessed. "I've got something more important to do right now, and I want to leave the Great Hall without too many people noticing me. Lycaon, Darius, Severus, Aurelius, and Stanzi are already out there, waiting for me."

"Okay," Ron said disappointedly. "Man, you were the one everyone was calling a freak earlier and now you can't pry the girls off of your newly-rejuvenated body!"

"Help me get out," Morty asked the two boys. "I'll give each of you a one-time detention dismissal for next year if you just help me leave the Great Hall before those girls come back here."

"Okay," Harry told the teacher. "But stand up, alright? I'll pretend to be talking to you while I'm thinking about what I—" He cut himself short as he saw the enormous punch bowl…an idea was brewing in his mind like a fresh potion. "I've got it!"

"Oh? What do you plan to do?" Morty asked, and then let out a yowl of disgust as Harry poured a cup of punch on him. "What's the big idea, Harry?! Why I—"

"You can dry that off once you leave the Great Hall, Morty," Harry told him in a quiet tone. "Just pretend you're going to the washroom to clean that up, and the girls will leave you alone."

"Thanks," Morty said, his eyes widening in a sudden sense of _why_ Harry had splashed him. "Great excuse…ten points to Gryffindor for spilling punch on a teacher."

"Can I get some if I spill punch on Ebonyste?" Ron asked Morty.

"No!" Morty said as he sprinted out of the Great Hall to meet up with his fellow Nemesarists.

"Why would he be in such a hurry?" Ron asked, and when Harry showed him the obsidian-and-pewter ring again, he immediately shut up.

Harry decided he wanted to leave the Great Hall also, and went outdoors near the lake. It was rather quiet out there, and there was a small green light coming from near one of the rocks. It looked like a pair of rather dim fireflies for a moment, until he could see the shady silhouette of an older female student.

"Who's there?" he asked, realizing nobody else had decided to come out here.

"Cassandra Snape," Cassandra replied. "Harry, what got you to come out here? I know that Stanzi said the ball could carry on all over the campus, but most people aren't going to leave the Great Hall."

"I'm not like 'most people'," Harry pointed out. "I was tired of the loud noise in there. Besides, Celia Wells is a rough dancer."

"I was coming out here to hold a conversation with my brother," Cassandra told Harry.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Teiresias would like that, I bet," Harry said nicely. The cloud that had been covering the waxing crescent moon disappeared, and Harry could see Cassandra better; she was sitting down and had a single yellow rose in front of her.

"I was talking about my _older_ brother," Cassandra corrected. "You know…_Melampus_. Mum told me that Voldemort mentioned him the other night."

"He did," Harry told her. "Look, I was wondering if you would like to take me up on the offer for a dance before the festivities come to an end."

"Sure," said Cassandra. A smile—a true smile, not a smirk—was on her face as she said, "If we go in there, though, won't Neville assume you…er…'_stole'_ me?" Both got a laugh out of that. "Besides, that nymph Malfoy brought in there was beginning to creep me out."

"But aren't you mad at Neville for breaking up with you?" Harry asked, curious.

"Not really," was Cassandra's answer. "His Gran made him do it. It's not his fault that he doesn't have the backbone to stand up to her and set down rules for _himself._"

"You sound a bit angry."

"I guess I am a tad peeved—"

"Then let's have some fun with everybody and toy with their minds!" Harry had a great idea for one of the greatest practical jokes Hogwarts had probably seen in decades. "There's nobody else out here, so our plan can't be foiled…"

"What plan?" Cassandra raised her left eyebrow.

"You and I can _pretend_ to have become a couple!" Harry was quite pleased with his brilliant scheme. "This'll give me a chance to get a rise out of Neville—he can usually take a good joke—and for you to have a little fun with your Dark Arts pals."

"I like this idea!" Cassandra seemed rather interested in this. "But we can either make or break this; it all depends on our acting skills."

"I'm not going to kiss you," Harry told Cassandra flatly.

"I wasn't expecting you to do that," Cassandra replied in an equally flat voice. "But I'm sure the last song's coming up in a few minutes; let's get in there, dance in front of everyone, and pretend to be a couple…just like you suggested!"

Harry walked back inside Hogwarts, holding Cassandra's cold left hand in his right hand. Both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin had smiles on their faces as they reentered the Great Hall. "Hello Ron, Hermione."

"Harry!?" Hermione's eyes were wide open in shock. Her jaw had dropped. "Neville's going to be furious!"

"What happened to 'never going to happen,' Harry?" Ron elbowed Harry and grinned. "Way to go, mate! Neville's going to be _pissed_!"

Cassandra smirked at Ron and Hermione and said, "Isn't it a pity? He's probably going to hear a lot more from me than you this summer." That wicked grin she had on her face made Harry want to laugh; she looked like she was up to no good.

"Don't you care about Neville?" Hermione hissed at Cassandra. "You replaced him _that_ quickly!? _With_ _Harry?!_"

"I guess I'm not as undesirable as people thought, eh?" Cassandra's face was definitely smug. "Come on, darling," she said to Harry in an almost facetious tone. "Let's go kick Malfoy's ass on the dance floor."

"I thought you hated dancing."

"I do," Cassandra said quietly, "but Mum made me go to ballroom dancing classes when I was little. I hate it, but I know how to dance. Besides, this is a modern waltz; you have nothing to worry about. Just follow my lead…"

hphphphphphphphp

Several jaws dropped that night…the last night at Hogwarts. Harry walked back up to the Gryffindor Common Room and began—along with all the other students—to pack his belongings. He looked out the giant window and let out a heart-heavy sigh. Tomorrow, he would be returning to the Dursleys. At least he had the comfort of knowing that perhaps a _part_ of his summer would be spent in New Orleans, and another good part would be dedicated to getting to know his "adopted Underclassman" for that ridiculous project Dumbledore had concocted.

"I can't believe you did that to me!" Neville snarled at Harry. "Why would you go out and take her when you showed _no_ interest in her at all before? Was it simply because you knew _I_ liked her?"

"Neville, you need to calm down," Harry told his friend.

"How am I _supposed_ to be calm about this?" Neville shrieked. "I was in love with her, and you took her from me!"

"Hey, you weren't dating her anymore," Harry pointed out. "You let your Gran dictate your dating habits."

"Besides," Ron told Neville, "do you honestly think Harry and Cassandra are going to stay together forever? Even a whole month? I doubt it."

"I like my cute little blood-drinker," Harry teased; he'd already explained the joke to Ron and Hermione. Hermione had found it horridly dirty, but Ron found it horrendously funny. "Especially because she's _mine_ now!"

"Oh, you're horrible!" Neville's rage had quickly changed into raw tears. "Harry, you're such a…a…"

"Good actor," Harry finished. "Cassandra and I decided to pull a prank; we're not going out."

"You're _not_?" Neville looked rather relieved to hear that piece of news.

"No," Harry enlightened Neville. "I didn't know that Cassandra and I were such good actors!"

"Actually," Neville admitted, "I didn't know that either."

"So we're okay, then?" Harry outstretched his right arm to shake Neville's hand.

"Yeah, we're okay," Neville told Harry as he shook his hand. "So who all knows?"

"Well…there's Ron, Hermione, and you…and Cassandra's two best friends…"

"That's _it_?" Neville was chuckling at the thought.

"Keep it secret," Harry told Neville, laughing also. "But whatever you do, don't tell Snape. I want to see the look on his face when Cassandra and I pretend to kiss." With those words, Harry packed his last item and curled up into his bed. "Goodnight, Neville."

"Night."

"Night, Ron."

"Night, Harry."

There was a long silence, and then Seamus decided to break it one final time before everyone had to leave…"Did anyone else notice how _big_ that booger in Snape's nose was?"

Hphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphphp

_Hello everyone. I must say….I'm extremely disappointed in the lack of reviews. However, I will go ahead and post the last chapter of this fic in a few days time. Only one more chapter to go…If you know of folks who were waiting for this fic to completed before they read it, please tell them that there is only one chapter left to be posted!_

_I truly hope you have enjoyed reading this tale of Nemesarium. It's almost over now. Please review. Until next time, _

_Sincerely….Professor Skylarke _


	51. Chapter 50 and Epilogue

Chapter Fifty:

The Unwanted Return to Privet Drive

After breakfast the next morning, Harry said his goodbyes to the ghosts, Beastie, the house elves, and all his friends, telling them that he'd be counting down the days until he saw them again. Everyone had packed their things and got on board the Hogwarts Express, waving farewell to their favorite teachers and faculty members.

"Goodbye, Gramps!" Celia was waving frantically to Dumbledore. "I'm going to miss you!"

"I'll miss you, too, Celia," Dumbledore told the now-graduated Seventh Year.

While most people were taking the end of the year in a serious manner, Harry couldn't help but find an opportunity for humor.

"Oh, come on! When's the next time we can pull this off? _Next_ year when my kid brother's here?"

"Is he within seeing distance, Cassandra?" Harry asked his friend and "girlfriend." It was a joke that only a few people knew about; everyone else thought Harry had lost his marbles and actually asked out the Potion Master's niece…including Snape.

"He's right over there, and gaining ground," Cassandra responded. "Quick, Harry; before he overlooks us!" She then began to run her fingers through his hair. Actually, it felt rather good. "I know you and I said _no kissing_—"

"I meant it," Harry said strongly, "unless it'll get a rise out of Snape."

"Believe me, it will," Cassandra sniggered.

"Alright, then!" Harry grinned and put one hand between Cassandra's shoulder blades, and another one by her ankle. He lifted the leg and tilted the other part backwards, and planted a kiss right on her lips, _knowing_ that the only reason it had been done was to make Snape dreadfully mad.

"POTTER!" Snape snarled.

_Hooray for me!_' Harry thought to himself. _It worked!_'

There was something wrong with what happened next; Cassandra entered the train along with Harry, still holding his hand and playing her role.

"Hold on!" Harry exclaimed. "You live in Hogsmeade; why are you getting on the train?"

"Morty and I got on—"

"Morty lives near Greenwich! He has _reason_ to get on the train, Cassandra! But you—"

"Will you let me finish? Morty and I got on the train for one special reason, and that's so we can meet this Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia you spoke of."

There was a malicious grin on her face as she walked along the corridor, _still_ holding on to Harry's hand.

"This should prove to be amusing."

"I dare say it'll be amusing!" Harry agreed, and then groaned. "Are you going up to them in witch attire?"

"All the better to freak them out with, my dear." Cassandra had a slightly haughty tone in her voice, like she had used back in Nezura's Curiosity. "Morty's sitting with the prefects, so Ron and Hermione are going to be in there with him. You and I, however, can sit anywhere."

The Hogwarts Express was slowly creeping out of the train station. Cassandra then stuck her head out a window and began waving.

"Don't you want to wave a temporary goodbye to Severus?" she teased.

"If it'll make him even more angry, sure," Harry replied, and started waving at Snape, who—much to his surprise—was still red in the face from anger.

"Bye, Severus!" he jeered, watching with glee as Snape seemed to be shouting at him, waving his fist. "He didn't look too thrilled."

"Let's just hope his wand wasn't in his fist," Cassandra half-laughed. "Pick a cabin, Harry."

Harry walked into Cabin 54, where the school year's excitement had all started. It didn't seem like he and his friends had witnessed an almost to-the-death fight between a Death Eater and Nezura in this very room at the very beginning of their Sixth Year. "Did you know that this is where Nezura fought against Necro?"

"Do you know Necro's real name?" Cassandra asked Harry. "I'm only asking because I asked Dr. Hemlock about the son she disowned…Brian. Turns out he changed his name to 'Necro' once he was seventeen, and kept it. That wasn't a nickname. Mortius, however, _was_ a nickname for Julius Cantarus." She had a smirk on her face and said, "We really have come quite a way since then, haven't we? It seems like only yesterday—but at the same time, ages ago—that this year began."

"Do you remember the time you used that special Clairvoyancy technique in Lewn's class and—months later—your prediction came true while you were still in Azkaban?"

"Yeah…" Cassandra let her head rest on Harry's shoulder and had the green light in her eyes flaring up to the magnitude of a dying star, metaphorically speaking. "And the look on icky Parenein's face when I used the Asphyxiation Charm. Oh, and when I questioned Dumbledore's authority…and the time you and Malfoy lip-locked out in public—"

"He was drugged on pink Mood Drops!" Harry interrupted. "I didn't enjoy that!"

"I wouldn't enjoy being kissed by Malfoy, either," Cassandra told Harry. "You're not in the wrong on that one. Besides, it was _Malfoy_ who kissed _you._"

A few people had paused outside the door, peering in. One of which was Lisa Turpin, whom Darius had been paid handsomely to Resurrect a week earlier. "Here's our chance to make this joke last all summer!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You-Know-Who is out there," Cassandra spoke softly.

Harry looked at the window through the corner of his eye, and only saw Lisa. "I thought you meant—"

"I meant the school gossip," Cassandra blurted. "Come on; kissing you isn't all that bad."

"You're not all that bad, either," Harry admitted…but would he really know about good and bad kissers? He closed his eyes and gave Cassandra yet another theatrical kiss. Special effects were added by Cassandra's hands gently massaging his shoulders as she kissed back. It was a bit disturbing when Harry thought about what he was doing too carefully, but if he didn't think about it, he found that pretending to have Cassandra for a girlfriend had been very fun. The Slytherin and the Gryffindor looked at the Cabin window to see a very shocked Lisa with her mouth hanging open. Her eyes seemed to tell what she was thinking…_I have SO got to tell everyone about this!_'

"You're a good actor," Cassandra admitted.

"I got a lot of practice from lying to your uncle," Harry half-joked. It was the truth, but Cassandra didn't need to know that. "But it wasn't just him; I have to do that sometimes so I don't get in trouble."

"That is amoral."

"So is killing a teacher."

"Okay, so we're even," Cassandra shrugged her shoulders and let out a long yawn. "It's surprisingly quiet in here. I'm surprised nobody else—"

"Harry! Cassandra! There you are!" Ginny spoke up and sat down next to Cassandra. Luna came in and took a seat next to Harry. "Neville will be in here in a little bit."

"You and Harry make a weird couple," Luna told Cassandra. "I bet the meeper bit both of you at the dance and neither one of you is in your right senses."

"No, nothing bit me," Cassandra confessed. "Luna, I know all about the meeper from the Quibbler, seeing as I read it, and your dad wrote that those little buggers don't bite vampires because they'll turn into cockroaches if they do."

"Hagrid squished a roach accidentally at the End-of-Course Ball," said Luna. "I bet it bit you and sacrificed itself so this insanity would last for more than a week."

"If so, it worked," Ginny added. "Harry, nobody ever suspected you guys to become a couple."

"He's just full of surprises, then, isn't he?" Cassandra teased. "So, Ginny, did you sign up for any clubs?"

"Dark Arts Awareness, Book Club, and Dueling," Ginny answered. "The only reason I wanted to take Dark Arts Awareness is because Professor Skylarke's the club director."

"You like Morty?" Cassandra's eyebrows were raised.

"I think that he should've been dressing like he's dressing now all along," Ginny confessed, and then blushed. "I mean, I know he's older than me, and I'm a student, and it's not like I want to date him…but I think he's cute for an older guy." Everyone in the cabin got a good laugh out of that comment. "You're joining that club too, right?"

"Yes," Cassandra and Harry said together.

"I am joining Special Friends," Luna confessed to the group. "Professor Ebonyste's Double Secret Special Friend Treatment was lots of fun, so I'm sure Special Friends Club will be just as entertaining." She smiled a bit and said, "It was pretty cool watching him cut the Dark Mark out of his arm—"

"Ewww!" Ginny shrieked. "Luna, I don't want to hear about Ebonyste carving his half-fairy flesh!"

"Er…can we come in here?" Neville asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Dean and Seamus followed immediately after and made themselves at home in the cabin. Dean was beginning to pull his school robe off and bundle it up.

"Neville, Dean, Seamus…" Cassandra lowered her eyelids a bit, and curled the ends of her mouth up into a pseudo-smile and said a calm, "welcome to Cabin 54."

"So, is it official?" Neville sounded dejected. "You and Harry are really—"

"Oh, yes," Harry blurted, and winked at Neville.

"Great," Neville fake-groaned. However, it was clear that Seamus and Dean weren't fooled by his not-so-high-caliber performance.

"Something's fishy," Seamus spoke aloud.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Cassandra facetiously replied, batting her eyelashes in an out-of-character manner.

"You guys aren't dating!" Seamus pointed a finger at Harry, and then at Cassandra. "You're just playing around like you are!"

"Is the cabin door sealed off?" Cassandra asked suddenly.

"Er…nobody's out there," Dean told her. "And yes."

"Good," Cassandra let out a sigh and then confessed. "No, Harry and I aren't a real couple. We were just pretending to be one to shock everybody." The small smile grew into that familiar carnivorous grin. "It's a great thrill."

"Don't tell anyone," Harry shushed the group. "And whatever you do, play along."

"Oh, alright," Seamus chuckled. "That's _low_, Harry; kissing Snape's niece right in front of everyone!"

"That's more than low," Dean told Harry, "that's _gross_."

"Watch what you say around me," Neville hissed at Dean.

"Where are Blaise and Rhianna?" Luna asked. "Cassandra, they seem to be with you most of the time."

"They live in Hogsmeade," Cassandra answered. "I live there, too; I'm just coming here so everyone thinks I'm giving Harry a few goodbye kisses or something just as ridiculous. Also, I'm going to meet his relatives."

"I'm going to visit my uncle this summer," Neville added to the conversation.

"Good for you," Seamus and Dean said in unison, both sarcastically.

Everyone sniggered a little, and then the little lady with the candy cart passed by. She knocked on the cabin door and opened it. "Care for anything on the trolley, dears?"

"Have you got any blood-lollipops?" Cassandra asked the lady. When the cart lady nodded, Cassandra's eyes seemed to get a lustful look. "I'll take four."

"Why, my dear, you must be pretty hungry, or plan on giving those to a vampire you fancy!" the cart lady exclaimed.

"I declare," Cassandra grumbled, unwrapping one of her newly-purchased candies, "it's like people always seem to forget I'm a vampire unless they _attend_ Hogwarts…"

"Maybe she doesn't read The Daily Prophet or the Quibbler," Seamus offered. "Er…madam, I'd like a chocolate frog."

"Any more of the Every-Flavor Beans?" Dean asked.

"Here you are!" the cart lady said merrily as she exchanged her candies for money. "Anything for you two ladies?" she asked Ginny and Luna.

"I don't have any money on me," Ginny admitted.

"I'll buy three luminescence bars," Luna told the lady, handing her a few Knuts. After she got the glowing white-chocolate bars, she gave one to Ginny and one to Neville.

"And for you, Mr. Potter?" the lady asked. "Anything?"

"I guess I'll have Mood Drops," Harry told her with a smile on his face. "Have you got any?"

"Why, yes, I do…but they're so _expensive_—"

"That's alright," Harry told her, and handed her two Galleons. "I want them."

"Thank you, sir!" the cart lady chirped, happy with her business. She closed the cabin door and continued on her way.

"Mmm…" Dean said suddenly, a little chocolate frog-leg hanging out of his mouth.

"DEAN!" Seamus shouted angrily. "THAT WAS MINE!"

The squabble continued for a few seconds before the door was slammed open.

"What _is_ it?" McGonagall snapped.

"Professor McGonagall!" Seamus yelped. "Dean ate a chocolate frog!"

"He's not allergic to chocolate, is he?" asked McGonagall.

"No, but it was MY frog, too!" Seamus wasn't too happy.

"Finnigan, you're sixteen," McGonagall scowled at him. "Start acting like it." With that, she slammed the door again.

"That was nice," Cassandra joked, still licking her candy. "The Head of your House had to silence your pleas."

"We're not deaf, you know," Dean told Cassandra. "Oh, look! It appears to me that the prefects can come back to wherever-it-is that they want to go!"

"Lovely," Ginny sounded happy. "Now Ron and Hermione can keep us company—"

"Hello," Ron said, entering into the cabin with Hermione. "Isn't it a shame that we can't have Rick Fallowin in here with us? He was quite the comedian."

"And that mole on his face…" Seamus chuckled. "That was one big mole—"

"Anyway," Hermione interrupted, trying to change the topic. "Harry, I hope you have everything packed."

"Oh, I do."

"Did you get a chance to talk to Ahsimal about the New Orleans trip?" Ron asked Harry.

"Just for a few minutes before breakfast," said Harry. "He said that if Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia says it's fine, I can go. Therefore, I bet I'll be staying in Surrey."

"That's a real shame, mate," replied Ron. "I've always wanted to go to the French Quarter, too. It's a bit like the Diagon Alley of the southern States. Besides, it's not too far away from that Laveau University place your…er…_girlfriend_ will be attending after next year's over."

"That is if I live past it," Cassandra commented. "I'm pretty sure all of you know that Voldemort is now a vampire. That probably means most people will become pro-Slayer and the Slayer's Renaissance will start anew." A rather morbid laugh came out of her throat as she added, "So, of course, I'll try to find ways to keep myself hidden."

"Smart move," Hermione admitted. "Cassandra, I'm glad that the Hogwarts staff decided to pay for your college tuition."

"I'm glad too; there's no way my mum would pay for me to leave the country to merely attend a specific university, and Laveau was my first choice," Cassandra confessed. "You and Ron are prefects, so maybe you can answer this question for me."

"Go on," Ron and Hermione spoke simultaneously.

"Do you know who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts when we get back?" Everyone was looking around in Cabin 54, not quite sure what the answer to that would be. It was clear that Ron and Hermione had some sort of an idea about who it would be, but were obviously trying to keep it a secret. Cassandra leered at them, looming over their shoulders. "Well…?"

"From what Professor Skylarke told us in Cabin 11," Ron began, "he was offered the position and refused, seeing as he enjoys teaching Curses & Rootwork too much to transfer."

"Thank God," Ginny interrupted.

"So it'll be one of two remaining candidates," Hermione continued. "If we can find a Potions instructor who's qualified enough to teach _that_ course, then we might have Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts permanently."

There were groans coming from everyone in the cabin, except Cassandra (who looked rather interested). "And if no such person can be found, Dumbledore found another great person who has had experience teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts in a foreign country."

"Pernicia Bellicose?" Harry said the words as if they were a question.

"Why, how did you know that?" Hermione was laughing. "Lucky guess, Harry!"

"Ugh!" Harry moaned. "You mean I was _right_?!"

"Damn," Cassandra grumbled. "That woman is more than _pro-Slayer_…she's the real thing. If she's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts next year, some of the Hogwarts staff and students will be put in an extremely uncomfortable situation. Having some of the teachers as Slayers was bad enough, but the Defense teacher has plenty of power over his or her students, and wherever that person's ethics stand concerning vampires will determine how the school vampires are treated!"

"Now, I hope _Snape_ gets the job," Harry groaned. "I never thought I'd say that, but now I'm hoping he gets it." Luna and the Gryffindors all looked at Harry as if he had let out an extremely vile chain of curse words.

"Pernicia Bellicose can't be _that_ bad!" Hermione argued. "Dumbledore requested her for a reason, and I'm sure it's because she's a great teacher."

"Why do you think Dumbledore won't give the job back to Nezura?" Seamus asked. "She was cute, funny, and made sure we knew our stuff fairly well. Sure, Dr. Hemlock was the better teacher out of the two of them, but Nezura wasn't all that bad."

"Nezura wandered off topic too much," Hermione stated.

"And," added Cassandra, "she's always running off to investigate cases. Nezura isn't stable enough to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts full-time."

"Anyone but Pernicia Bellicose will be fine by me." Harry looked out the window to see that Malfoy and a few of his fellow Slytherins were bothering Lavinia the Hufflepuff…the girl who'd given Harry the love note on Valentine's Day. "What is he—"

"Give him back!" Lavinia wailed; Harry could hear a bit better once he slightly opened the cabin door. "Please, give me back my kitty cat!" Malfoy was suspending a white Persian kitten up in the air, right above the First Year's head. "Henry hasn't done anything to you!"

"You named your bloody cat _Henry_?" Malfoy asked, still making the cat bounce in the air. "I thought Mr. Fluff would suit this one better. He almost looks like a cotton ball with a scrunched-up face and a tail!"

"Quit it!" Lavinia whined, jumping up and down to try to retrieve her kitten. "I can't leave the train without Henry!"

"Malfoy, give the cat back," Harry sighed, pulling out his wand. "If you don't stop, I'm going to have to retrieve it from you."

"I'd like to see you try," Malfoy replied, making the cat spin in circles. Lavinia screamed.

"She hasn't done anything to you!" Hermione yowled. Cassandra, Ron, and Neville peered out of the cabin also.

"Is it true, Harry?" Lisa asked suddenly, going up to Harry. "Are you and Cassandra a couple?"

"Er…Lisa, go away!" Cassandra snapped. "It's none of your business whether or not we're dating!" She pulled out her wand also. "I'm not afraid to curse you…you know I was one out of three students to make a perfect 'Outstanding' in Curses & Rootwork, as well as Phobomancy."

"Fenrir's class pet," Malfoy muttered, making Henry the cat do cartwheels. "That's what you are, Cassandra." With that, he snapped his fingers and Henry came to a complete four-feet landing. "There…happy now?"

"Yes," the group stated. Harry then pointed his wand at Malfoy and said, "How about one more duel?"

"I'd like that!" Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry and said, "Talus Regulations, not Rulebook."

"Fine," Harry shook Malfoy's hand and looked around. "I'm calling Ron as my second. Who are you going to get?"

"Cassandra." Malfoy beckoned for Cassandra to come over there. "How about it?"

"If you pay me," Cassandra spoke dryly as she stretched out her left hand. Malfoy handed her nine Galleons, and so he ended up having the more dangerous second than Harry's choice.

"I'm ready to begin, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, a wicked smile on his pale face.

"_Intolerarus!_" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at Malfoy. Malfoy began to flinch and scream; Harry remembered the Intolerable Curse from his little Midnight Duel with Malfoy earlier that year. "Thanks for giving me the idea, Malfoy."

"_Anthius Twistari!_" Malfoy hissed back at Harry, clutching his arm in a certain spot. Harry doubled over in pain; his back was curving inwards to make the shape of the letter 'C'.

"_Amplifius!_" Harry snarled at Malfoy, who then yelped. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

"WHY HASN'T THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC MADE THIS SPELL ILLEGAL?!" Malfoy screamed in pain.

"Because the spell only hurts you," Hermione told Malfoy in her know-it-all tone, "and it doesn't cause any deaths or insanities, it's still legal to use. In fact, some Aurors use the Intolerable Curse to get confessions out of stubborn criminals."

"The more you loathe the person you place it on, the worse the pain will be," Cassandra added. "And—of course—the Amplification Hex can be added to any Curse any number of times to intensify the effects."

"You'd know that, wouldn't you?" Malfoy squeaked, still writhing on the floor in pain. "Potter, take it off!"

"Not until you admit defeat," Harry calmly told his rival.

"_Inflictus!_" Malfoy squealed, hitting Harry directly between the eyes with a jinx. Harry's back made a perfect right angle, but it somehow hadn't snapped in two.

"_Amplifius!_" Harry responded, making Malfoy's pain double yet again in size. His back was on fire, or—at least—that's how it felt.

"Call a draw!" Hermione shouted. "Quit being stubborn and call a draw! It'll all stop once the duel's over!"

"DRAW!" Harry and Malfoy shouted. Both sighed in relief as the pain evaporated.

"That was entertaining," Cassandra said, "but I've seen more interesting duels. The one between Marcus and Morty back in September, for example…"

"Good duel, Malfoy," Harry congratulated the Slytherin and then smirked at him. "You've been a worthy foe."

"You too," Malfoy agreed, smirking back as he went into his cabin. "You know, we only have about five minutes before the Hogwarts Express reaches the station."

"I suggest we all get our stuff," Ron offered. "I can't wait to see my Mum and Dad." Ginny nodded to second that opinion.

"Me too!" Hermione agreed.

"Is Professor Skylarke going to meet your aunt and uncle?" Dean suddenly asked Harry. "I know you're introducing them to Cassandra, but I thought I heard something about Skylarke."

"Yeah, he's going to have a word with them," Harry told his friend.

"Maybe you should go find him," Seamus pointed out. "After all, we're almost there."

"Good idea, Seamus," Harry commented. "Ron? Hermione? Luna? Have any of you seen Morty anywhere?"

"Last I saw of him, he was giving the Second Years a demonstration to promote his class in Cabin 2," Hermione admitted.

"I saw him head over to the loo ten minutes ago," Ron offered. "And he was in Cabin 11 with the prefects for a while."

"There's no time to talk about this," Hermione harped. "We've _got_ tofind him!" She—along with Ron—pulled her wand out of a robe pocket and stood beside Harry. "Cassandra, are you coming?"

"Of course," Cassandra responded, "but what about Luna?"

"I'd like to accompany you guys," Luna answered. "Skylarke owes me two Sickles, so I'll help you find him."

"Thanks!" Hermione smiled at Luna and gave her the thumbs-up. "Now, where do we look first?"

"Why not the men's bathroom?" Ron suggested. "No, wait…unless he's got motion sickness, he won't be in there." At that moment, the train came to a halt. "Well, wherever he is, Harry, you and Cassandra better find him."

"How are you getting home?" Harry asked Cassandra suddenly.

"My mum and I thought we'd go ahead and get some of my school supplies while we're in London," Cassandra told Harry. "She'll be at the station too."

"That's good," Harry replied, a faint smile on his face with the very memory of Lydia. She had been a marvelous help over the course of the year, and he hoped that he could still visit the Lair next year. "Am I still welcome at the Lair?"

"Always," Cassandra promised. "Ron and Hermione may come whenever they like, too, but I might want to go ahead and warn all of you; some of my mum's friends _are_ still in the Death Eaters, although she betrayed the group by helping you."

"Lydia's not all that bad," Ron laughed. "How could something that sexy be bad?"

"My mum just so-happens to be a _lamia_," Cassandra spat. "And in case you already forgot, I'm now becoming the same thing."

"Since you're now one of _them_," Hermione said, still looking for Morty, "Cassandra, you're one out of twenty-one lamiae left in the world!"

"It's nineteen," Harry corrected Hermione. "Portia Cyanis got attacked by a Slayer this year, remember? And Lewn…she was a lamia too. There'd be eighteen of them left, if Cassandra wasn't becoming number nineteen."

"Seventeen out of that nineteen are pure evil, too," Cassandra admitted. "My mum and I seem to be the only ones left who try our best to keep whatever humanity remains in us."

"You're doing a great job," Ron told her. He then turned to Harry and Hermione. "Well, the train stopped, and I can see my Mum and Dad out there with Fred and George, so I guess this means that Ginny and I've got to go. I'll write you over the summer; be sure to do the same."

"Don't worry!" Hermione waved goodbye to Ron and Ginny. "I'll write at _least_ once a week!" She then looked out, and left the Hogwarts Express rather quickly. "Mum! Dad! I'm home!" She looked back to face Harry and waved.

"Bye, Hermione," Harry said, sighing. He looked at Luna and said, "Any luck in finding Morty?"

"You mean Professor Skylarke?" Luna asked. "Yeah…he's left the train already, and I think that's him looking for you out there. See you next year, Harry."

"Take care, Luna!" Harry rushed off, holding his Slytherin friend's hand. "Cassandra, do you see Morty anywhere?"

"Er…" Cassandra narrowed her eyes and drew her glasses up close to her face so she could see better. "What was he wearing today?"

"Teacher's robes," Harry told her. "See him?"

"You mean to tell me he dressed up in his teacher's robes today? That's the first time this year that he's worn—"

"I think he did it to get a rise out of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia."

"I can't wait to see the looks on their faces," Cassandra told Harry as she played a bit with her ring.

The two Hogwarts students went up to Morty and tapped him on the shoulder. "Looking for us, Morty?" Harry asked. "I hope it didn't take you too long."

"There you are," Morty halfway-chuckled. "Harry, I really do need to have a little word with your guardians." He then handed over two sheets of parchment, one for each student. "I had only three of my Sixth Years manage to receive an 'Outstanding' grade in my Curses & Rootwork class, and the two of you, as well as Draco Malfoy, are to have these letters with you over the summer. I managed to persuade the Minister of Magic to sign these; they are **Underage Magic Permits for Exceptionally Talented Students**. The three of you will be allowed to practice Exorcism, Necromancy, Curses & Rootwork, and Phobomancy over the summer. Just make sure you don't abuse your privileges, or you'll drag me into trouble along with yourself for reckless behavior."

"We're responsible students," Harry pointed out. "Er…well…at least Cassandra and I are responsible. I don't really know whether or not Malfoy's dependable."

"And that's why Aurelius, Darius, Lycaon, and I decided that the three of you should sharpen your skills over the summer." Morty's voice had a calming effect, for some odd reason. "Now, Harry, let's go find your Aunt and Uncle."

"That's Uncle Vernon over there," Harry pointed to a gruff bulldog of a man in a green sweater. "And Aunt Petunia's the woman right next to him. My cousin, Dudley, isn't here."

"Dudley, eh?" Morty had a trickster's grin on his face. "Do you get along with your cousin?"

"Oh, not at all!" Harry admitted. "He's a git."

"I see…" Morty's voice trailed off as he began walking over toward Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia with Harry and Cassandra.

"Hello."

Neither one of the adults turned around to face the Curses & Rootwork teacher, pretending he wasn't there.

"Excuse me, I greeted you politely. If you refuse to speak with me, I am afraid I'm going to have to be rude in getting your attention."

"What do you want?" Uncle Vernon snapped at Morty. He eyed the lean teacher with a dark suspicion. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mortimer Skylarke, and I'm a professor over at Harry's school. I teach Curses & Rootwork," Morty explained. "And you, sir, must be Vernon Dursley."

"I'm Harry's uncle," Vernon replied. "And this is my wife, Petunia." As soon as Morty mentioned the word 'Curses', Uncle Vernon, as well as Aunt Petunia, seemed to act a lot nicer to him; they were probably afraid that this auburn fellow was going to curse them if they provoked him.

"Er…nice to meet you," Aunt Petunia said in a tone that Harry knew meant she was extremely repulsed as she shook Morty's hand.

"And I'm Cassandra Snape," Cassandra said, eyeing Harry's guardians evilly, "a friend from school."

"Cassandra knows a lot of black magic," Harry told his aunt and uncle, and smiled when he saw them shiver.

"My mum will be here shortly," Cassandra said calmly, and then pulled out a tiny black book titled Phobomancy's Pants-Wetting Secrets.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia," Harry addressed his guardians, "I think Professor Skylarke needs to talk to you about my summer studies."

"Yes, I need to get that cleared up," Morty eyed Uncle Vernon closely and pulled out his wand. "You see, sir, your nephew has done wonderfully in my course, making the top grade I can legally give a student. He also did remarkably well in Phobomancy, Exorcism, and Necromancy. I want to make sure he doesn't lose any of his talent over the summer, you understand. He can legally use four types of magic outside of school before his seventeenth birthday this July, and they are written down on a note he'll give to you on the way home."

He jabbed the wand into Vernon's gut and then retracted it. "Make sure he practices his Dark Arts every day, and memorizes every single Curse, Hex, Charm, and Jinx I assigned him to study on his summer reading list." He waved The Perpetual Book of Continuous Curses and 1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis in Vernon's—and then Petunia's—face. "I'll know if he misses a day of practice."

"Just who do you think you are, trying to boss me around like that?" Uncle Vernon barked.

"I'm the greatest Cursemaster of the modern age," Morty hissed in response, pointing the wand directly at Uncle Vernon's forehead. "Nobody questions my authority in the wizarding world. There's not a single Curse on the face of this earth that I don't know, and I know how to do each and every one of them properly…it's my job to have this inventory of knowledge. And if you're wondering _how_ I'll know if Harry's not practicing or isn't being treated right this summer, I always keep a palm crystal in my pocket."

"If you harm him, I'll bite you," a smooth, female voice interrupted Morty's rant.

"Lydia, hi!" Harry smiled at the Von Dorian Matriarch. He noticed that she was dressed in Muggle attire, and didn't seem to stand out in any way besides her alluring appearance. "Aunt Petunia, this is Cassandra's mum, Lydia Von Dorian."

"How do you do?" Lydia politely shook Aunt Petunia's hand, and then Uncle Vernon's. "And I meant what I said about biting you."

"Let me guess," Aunt Petunia said half-sarcastically, "you're a vampire?"

"To be more specific, I'm a lamia," Lydia corrected. "If Morty tells me that either of you is giving Harry any trouble, you'll wind up with two little holes in your neck." She then grabbed Cassandra's wrist and said, "You and I are heading to the car right now. I'll help you with your stuff, but hurry up! We can't leave your little brother at the house by himself all day…especially after that stunt I pulled on my birthday!"

"Write me whenever you like, Harry," Cassandra told her friend as she walked out of King's Cross Station. "I'll probably be spending most of my summer at home, so I won't be difficult to reach." She then grinned and added before she got out of sight, "I'll tell Teiresias you said 'hi' once I get home."

"See you later, Cassandra!" Harry waved goodbye and watched Morty continue to talk to his aunt and uncle about his Dark Arts education. It made him feel a bit funny, knowing that the Ministry had approved of him practicing black magic…and that he was going to enjoy it.

_Maybe I'm not all that different from Voldemort after all,_ Harry thought to himself grimly as Morty finished showing Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia the summer reading list for the Dark Arts curriculum.

"Just _where_ is it that you live, Skylarke?" Aunt Petunia asked the Cursemaster.

"I live near Greenwich," Morty explained. "And I'll be riding a bus back home once I see Harry to your car."

"Thanks," Harry whispered in Morty's ear.

"You're quite welcome," Morty told Harry. "And if you ever have any trouble with them, turn your ring upside down. One of your fellow Nemesarists will apparate over here." He then chuckled. "Just don't plan on it being Severus or Lycaon. It'll probably be me, Stanzi, or Aurelius."

"What about Darius?" Harry asked quietly.

"Darius? Well, nobody can predict what Darius will do," Morty replied. "He's proven that, don't you think?"

"Are you ready to leave?" Aunt Petunia asked Harry, still looking nervously at Morty. She was as pale as a ghost.

"Er—"

"Of _course_ Harry's ready to leave!" Uncle Vernon began to chuckle, and patted Harry on the shoulder. "You see, Skylarke; we treat Harry rather well. He can't wait to see his cousin Dudley once we get back to Surrey."

"That's not what I've heard," Morty snapped angrily as he followed Harry and the Dursleys out to the car park.

"You kept me in the closet under the stairs until I outgrew it," Harry hissed at Uncle Vernon. His uncle glared at him warningly, as if he was daring Harry to continue.

"Oh?" Morty's slightly angry expression had turned to disgust and outrage at that comment. "Dursley, I hope what the boy is saying is a lie, for _your_ sake." That wand was still clutched tightly in his left hand. Harry was just _waiting_ for Uncle Vernon to make Morty angry enough to curse him.

"It's a lie, Skylarke; the boy tends to hallucinate," Uncle Vernon insisted. "We treat him very well; he's like a second son to us."

"No, I'm not!" Harry snarled. "You're just trying to suck up to my teacher so he won't jinx you!"

Uncle Vernon's face turned crimson in anger from that comment, and he curled one of his enormous hands into a tight fist. He was preparing to hit Harry. However, as the fist came hurling toward Harry, he decided to pull out his wand and shouted, "_Ricochaise!_" Uncle Vernon's fist missed Harry, and rebounded back into his own face.

"Professor Skylarke showed me that one this year, and now I have permission to use it."

"That was brilliant," Morty applauded Harry as he opened the car door. "Look, all of us in Nemesarium will be writing you once a week, even Severus. Not all of it is personal, and most of the letters will be copies sent to the entire group for educational purposes. Consider it an academic opportunity."

Morty then went to the front of the car and spoke with Uncle Vernon one more time. "Oh, and one more thing before you go…once Harry turns seventeen, he'll legally be an adult in the wizarding world. He'll be able to do _any_ form of magic outside of school after his birthday."

There was a cruel sneer on his face as he parted with the words, "I just thought you'd like to know that. Harry, I'll see you back at Hogwarts…or perhaps sometime this summer."

"Goodbye, Morty—er…_Professor Skylarke_," Harry said, smiling as he waved farewell to the professor. As Uncle Vernon began to start the car's engine, Harry looked out the window to see Morty change his clothing's appearance into something rather normal. "Enjoy your summer," he whispered to himself.

"That Skylarke fellow's a freaky one," Uncle Vernon spoke up, putting the car into driving mode. "Every moment, I thought he was going to put a curse on my family. And Harry, don't you _dare_ let him think you're having a bad summer!"

"If I have one, I'm going to admit it," Harry responded. Uncle Vernon turned around to shout something at Harry, but before he could open his mouth, Harry pulled out his wand and his copy of 1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis by Dr. Iphigenia Hemlock.

"Let's see…oh! The Severe Arthritis Hex sounds like a nice one I can try while I'm in the car if you yell at me!" Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia _immediately_ shut up. "Oh, and this is that letter Professor Skylarke wanted the two of you to look over, so you know just _what _it is that I'm doing." And with that wonderfully uncomfortable silence, Harry put 1001 Horrendous Curses for Your Nemesis back in his bag and pulled out Necromancy, the Death Art to begin looking over the Seven Unnatural Laws of Necromancy. "Oh…so _that_ is how you manage that…" And with that, Harry _knew_ that this was going to be a fantastic summer, perhaps the best one he had ever had.

Epilogue: Alone in the Night

"_Severus," _Harry began to write on the parchment. _"It has been four weeks since school got out, as you already know. I'd like to thank you for sending me the articles I requested on Revamp Resurrections, and would like to let you know that I hope you get the Defense Against the Dark Arts position this coming year. With best regards," _Harry wrote out his signature and closed the envelope.

"Hedwig, get this to Snape," he told his owl. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Lots of mail had come in over the past four weeks, and most of it had been from his fellow Nemesarists. Books, articles, old magazines, and notes about various forms of black magic surrounded Harry's room, as well as a gruesome-looking miscellany of Necromantic instruments and items used for Exorcisms. A Slayer's set was by his bedside, untouched, and Pernicia Bellicose's first edition of The Slayer's Companion: A Guide to Vampiric Extermination looked as if it had only been half-opened. A photo of each and every Nemesarist was by his desk, as well as a book Hermione had sent him about Nostradamus.

However, tonight, none of that was going to matter; Snape had sent him all he needed to know about blocking evil spirits during Revamp Resurrections, and how to do one properly. It was surprising to know the Potions Master had taken notes on how Darius had restored Morty's corpse to its best state yet, but it was just what Harry needed for that night.

In the corner of Harry's small bedroom was an old bell bandolier that Darius had given him as an early birthday present, and a shovel he had stolen from Uncle Vernon's tool shed. He put his wand in his pocket and made sure that his Nemesarist's Ring was right-side up; he had already had to turn the ring upside-down to get one of his fellow Nemesarists to intervene when Uncle Vernon had been quite brutal. It had accidentally slipped in that position a couple of times, making Lycaon Fenrir (and the second time, Severus Snape) rather unhappy with the false alarm.

He fastened the bell bandolier around his waist, and grabbed the shovel's handle, then proceeded to open his door as quietly as possible. He knew his plan would be ruined if he woke up Dudley, Aunt Petunia, or Uncle Vernon…_especially_ Uncle Vernon.

After he managed to leave his bedroom, Harry carefully walked down the staircase and toward the door. He noticed somebody had put a combination lock tightly around the doorknob, and the door was also locked. This didn't stop him, though.

"_Alohomora,_" Harry whispered, pointing his wand at the keyhole. The lock fell to the floor, but surprisingly made no sound as it landed on the freshly-vacuumed carpet. Curious as to what time it was, Harry looked at his wrist watch; it was 2:30 a.m., very early in the morning but still late into the night.

He had spoken to nobody about what it was he planned to do, not even to Ron, Hermione, or anyone in Nemesarium. Nobody needed to know about his intentions until he had completed his macabre aspiration. As recently as six months ago, he would have never thought he would be purging himself so deeply into the Darkest form of magic known to man, but here he was, almost seventeen, leaving Privet Drive for a grisly—and rather disgusting—task. It would be life-changing, and he knew it. However, that wasn't going to stop him; nothing would.

After making it safely out of the house, Harry walked to the end of the block and into a churchyard. He had gotten Lydia to do a research of all the Surrey cemeteries, and he had been surprised to find that his parents were buried within walking distance, in a church cemetery.

'_It's good luck that I won't have to go to the Highgate Cemetery until Darius takes the Advanced Necromancy class there for a special trip,_' he thought to himself.

The bell bandolier was feeling rather heavy around his waist, but he knew that he would soon be needing it. The churchyard was rather small, and it didn't take Harry too long to find the graves of his parents. There they were—James and Lily Potter—only six feet below him, more than likely in Stage Three unless embalming had been practiced…then there was a chance that they might _still_ be in Stage Two. However, Harry wasn't naïve enough to think even for a moment his parents would be pretty to look at down there.

"Darius," he whispered to himself, clutching the handle of the shovel in his hands. "Wish me luck." With the thought of seeing his mother and father again soon, he began to dig into the soft cemetery earth. "Thank you so much for showing me this magic…"

He continued to dig in each grave until he had uncovered two coffins.

"_Levitus_!" he whispered the incantation softly, and the two caskets came out of the holes and landed gently next to Harry on the fading green grass. It had begun to rain, and it was not only damp, but wet outside. The water had already soaked deeply into Harry's clothes.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered, closing his eyes as he opened up both of the coffins. "No, wait; here goes _everything_…"

He pulled a small pocketknife out of his pocket, pricked one of his fingers, and then rubbed his blood around on his palms, just as Snape's notes had told him to do. The smell of the bodies was so putrid that Harry was guessing that his mother and father were indeed in Stage Three.

"_Deuxius Mortata, Deuxius Durare,_" he chanted, and then rang the smallest bell on the bandolier, then the second largest, and then a couple of the medium-sized bells.

"Awake," he was choking on his words, "and return to me, James and Lily Potter…my mother and father…your time in this world is not yet over."

He put one hand in each coffin, and felt like he was going to be sick. The blood from his hands had gone to them, but feeling a cadaver was one of the worst sensations in Necromancy. After about a minute, he could feel hearts beating, and warmth coming from the reviving bodies. Soon, the nasty feeling was replaced by skin…Harry could feel the hands of his mother and father inside the coffins.

"And now it comes to this…" he muttered, and then took a deep breath. He opened up his mother's casket and noticed how beautiful she looked; she was practically alive, but there was no breath. He knew that the Kiss of Life was the final step. He leaned down, and kissed her, blowing a little bit of air into her mouth. Lily Potter had begun breathing, and was pretty much only sleeping.

"Mum," he whispered, and then went toward his father's coffin and repeated the same gesture. Harry managed to get the same results. "Dad…" With that, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. He knew that all he had to do now was wait…

The End

_And so, on July 26, 2005, I conclude what I have worked on for a little over_

_a year and a half. With 728 pages on Microsoft Word, and 1727 pages in atrue book format, my rendition of how the Sixth Year of Harry Potter's education (contradictory to the recently-published __**Harry Potter & The Half Blood Prince**__) comes to a close. For all of you, my loyal readers and Nemesarists, I wish each and every one of you a blessed and miraculous lifetime, and hope to see you in the future when I manage to either get something published or send out the sequel. This story has been a part of my life for almost nineteen months, and writing the ending gave me a feeling of joy and sorrow simultaneously. As I write this, my heart is pounding, and tears stream down my eyes, knowing that __**Harry Potter & The Crisis of Nemesarium**__ was never meant to be. I hope you enjoyed the read._

_-__**Professor Mortimer E. Skylarke**_

_**Curses & Rootwork**_

_**Hi everyone, Nita here. This is the end of the story, Harry Potter and the Crisis at Nemisarium. I really hope that you have enjoyed reading. I have tried to beta it as best as I could, and even though I know I missed a few things, I still hope you enjoyed the story. Please review and let Skylarke know how you liked or disliked the story. I know he plans on a sequel to this story, called Harry Potter and the Throne of Forgetfulness. If you paid attention to the last couple of chapters, then you already know what that is going to be!! LOL**_

_**Please review. It's the only way he's going to know if anyone has enjoyed this story. Skylarke has worked hard on this, and now that he's in college, he'll have even less time to write for fun...it's up to you, the readers, to let him know how he did!**_

_**  
Thanks for reading, and please email me directly with any questions or concerns! nitamantooth at comcast dot net**_

_**Ciao...NitaPotter**_


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